


Impractically Magic

by Deejaymil



Series: The Seelie Court [1]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Episode Related, FBI is riddled with werewolves, Fantastic Racism, Gen, Gibbs is a sea dog, Jimmy is a literal autopsy gremlin, Magic, Magical Realism, No one really knows what Ducky is and he's not telling, Shapeshifting, Tony's still a pig, Vampires, Werewolves, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2018-04-18 12:25:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 48,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4705907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deejaymil/pseuds/Deejaymil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a vampire on Air Force One, and Kate is pretty sure that she's going to lose her job over it.</p><p>Fortunately for her, there just so happens to be a position open at NCIS that very same day.</p><p>She's sure that her new boss is a werewolf, their probie is made of clay, and if DiNozzo makes one more pervy comment about her neck, she's going to fill his drawers with garlic. But, it could be worse: Ducky seems nice, even if he does have a disconcerting habit of leaving bells wherever he goes, and Abby’s attempts to bring the stuffed hippo, Bert, to life have been amusingly ineffectual so far.</p><p>Kate's determined to prove that, just because she's a human, it doesn’t mean she can’t belong here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kate and the Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

> **Thank you to my amazing betas, Otrame and SatuD2, who helped me so much with making this fic what it is!**
> 
> This fic has been drastically rewritten as of **January 2018,** with many scenes altered, added, or removed, getting ready for the third and final instalment beginning in a few weeks, after Unexpected Magic is similarly altered.

There’s a vampire on Air Force One, and Kate is pretty sure that she’s going to lose her job over it.

Don’t get her wrong, she’s no bigot. On the shortlist of things that she hates most—public bathrooms, sunfish, and badge-wielding assholes—vampires as a species aren’t listed, except when she’s on protection detail for the president himself and one waltzes onto her damn plane. As soon as he sees her, he zeroes in, smiling at her with his mouth too wide and his sharp-white canines bared. It’s not a nice smile; it’s a hungry one. She wants to reach for her gun, or maybe a stake, at the sight of it.

By the end of today, she’s sure she’s going to have gone for one of those things.

This entire security detail has been an endless parade of men with both badges and inflated ego. As he watches her with a gaze that she can only describe as ‘predatory’, she’s fast reaching the end of her temper.

“Excuse me,” he says, leaning in close. There’s a whiff of his cologne and the barest hint of sweat biting at the air between them, and she chooses to stare at a point between those dangerous eyes and the stupid, slicked-back hair above them. It’s more comfortable than his smile. “You’ll need to stand clear so I can take measurements for my crime scene sketches, thanks.”

It’s the tone of his voice that gets her, the one that’s a sneer away from adding ‘sweetheart’ to the end of his sentence. In that moment, he’s not just NCIS’s pet vampire come to investigate the commander who’d died on her watch; he’s every other piggish male she’s ever had the misfortune of looking her up and down and disregarding the piece on her hip or her extensive skill set.

“Right,” she says, and goes to find his superior officer. If she has to deal with a vampire, she wants to know who’s holding his leash.

The man she finds at the end of that chain, one ‘Agent Jethro Gibbs’, is slightly more palatable, even if he’s every bit the cowboy that the FBI agent they’d so unceremoniously kicked off the plane had called him. He’s grey-haired, sharp-eyed, and seems to think rules don’t apply to him. The only thing comforting about that stare when it’s levelled at her is that it’s followed by a smile that’s disarming purely because of his personality, not because of his species. No sharp canines mar the expression, no startling blankness to those off-grey eyes.

When she confronts him about his gung-ho requisitioning of both the presidential aircraft and Secret Service’s investigation, he’s flippant. Dismissive. Just as determined to get his own way as the vampire is, but he wears the confidence more easily, requesting blueprints for the plane that they both know he’s not going to get.

It’s a test she doesn’t care if she passes or not; they’re not getting them.

“The only thing you’re getting,” she tells him with a smile that’s as sweet as his isn’t, “is off my damn plane. I can’t risk them getting out, and I don’t trust you an inch. You lied to get here.”

For the first time, he switches off the intensity and goes for a flirtier approach, pausing close enough to her that she can smell wood shavings, coffee, and something only describable as ‘wild’. Whatever it is, it sets her teeth on edge; she’s beginning to get the notion that humans might be outnumbered on this particular aircraft.

“NCIS does not leak,” he says. “Those plans get out, you can shoot DiNozzo.”

“Would that work?” she asks dryly. “I was under the impression bullets don’t work so well on the already dead.”

That smile again, and she can tell he’s judging her, weighing her up to estimate her worth. “Bullets work pretty well on almost anything, depending on who’s firing,” he replies.

 

* * *

 

Maybe she’s never worked a crime scene before—and damn Gibbs for judging her on that, like not knowing his arbitrary set of ‘rules’ by rote reduces her in his eyes—but she knows enough to be careful when the stomach flu she’s picked up kicks in right in the middle of a case of death by unknown toxin. There’s nothing dignified about being sick on a plane in the middle of an investigation with strangers heading it: there’s no privacy, no comfort, and Gibbs makes her puke into an evidence bag, staring her down throughout the entire act. It’s mortifying, and it makes her look weak in front of men who she can tell would cut her down in a second. She tries to put as much of her displeasure in her glare as possible, but he’s completely unsympathetic and the way DiNozzo is studying her does nothing to help her churning gut.

The only thing this moment does have going for it is Ducky.

NCIS’s medical examiner is nothing like she’d have expected—someone who’s a cross between Gibbs and Tony, all of the perve with none of the confidence—after meeting the other two on the team. Kate has always considered herself an excellent judge of character, and there’s something so charming about the man that she can’t help but relax around him. “I owe you an apology, Doctor,” she tells him, embarrassed of her earlier abrasiveness towards him.

He chuckles and waves her apology away. “Oh, please, it’s Ducky to my associates.” She’s not sure if it’s the reassuring cadence of his voice or the cool hand he brushes against her arm, but she feels better immediately.

It occurs to her that it’s probably neither, because there’s a split second where he’s a much younger man leaning over her but, when she blinks and looks again, he’s just the same as before. The same eyes in an age-lined face, the same neat hair and perfectly straight bowtie. When he straightens and stands with the ease of youth, she swears that she can hear the slightest tinkling of a bell.

Kate considers herself an excellent judge of character; however, she’s never been great at getting species right.

When Ducky finally leaves, she lifts her head and Agent Gibbs is there, head cocked to one side. She wonders if he knows how much he resembles her Grandma’s spaniels when he tilts his head like that, as though he’s trying to work out a particularly difficult trick.

“You don’t trust us,” he says, and it’s not a question.

“I don’t know you,” she replies, and he looks pleased.

 

* * *

 

It’s at about the point that she’s given an order she’s pretty sure she has zero chance of successfully fulfilling, that some small part of her seriously begins to plan out her resume in her head. There’s no way that she’s getting out of this one without at least a serious demotion, and she can’t even really blame the vampire for it. Guess it’s time to suck it up and resign herself to a career of maybe, just _maybe,_ the most prestigious detail she’s ever given again being to walk the president’s pet teacup griffin.

But she’s not going to pretend that she’s happy about it. Opportunities in homeland security are few and far between for someone like her, without magic or inhuman abilities backing her up. She’s the first to admit she went for the Secret Service not just because she knew it was work she’d be fantastic at, that would prove her worth in a world that shits on the strength of anyone with ‘human’ listed on their license.

After all, it’s not like the justice department could have offered her anything more than desk jockey—times are changing but not fast enough. Unless she’s a werewolf, the FBI isn’t interested, and NCIS seems to take the dregs of those the other agencies scorn. Satyrs, pixies, and, apparently, even vampires. It’s not even a competition when she has one foot over the starting line of the evolutionary gate, stuck to the ground while they have—in some cases literal—wings to soar over every hurdle she has to face.

If she’s sour when she faces Gibbs and realises he’s not going to listen to reason, she has the right to be. If she loses this job, it’s going to take years to claw her way up to a decent position with another agency. Even with the anti-discrimination laws, it’s no secret that a human agent can never keep up with the supernaturally inclined.

In the end, it’s by the skin of her teeth that she hangs on. NCIS, damn them, steal the body out from under her, vanishing into the night like the pack of thieves—and she’s impressed, sure, and a little sore that she doesn’t get to have that much fun on the job, but that’s a small, childish part of her—and the only saving grace is the three-a.m. phone-call she gets from her superior informing her that they’re now ‘sharing’ the investigation with NCIS.

Sharing the investigation, she assumes, is code for ‘they have the body and this is as good as it gets’.

“I don’t think I can work with them,” she stupidly says, regretting it instantly. Never mind what she ‘thinks’, if she doesn’t work with them, she isn’t worth the metal her badge is stamped on—that she’s informed she will very quickly lose if she doesn’t take this advice to heart. Like it or not, for the time being at least, she’s partnered with Agent Gibbs and his skeevy vampire and she better make the best of it. She has five hours to shower, sleep, and then make her way to the NCIS headquarters to report to her acting supervisor, Gibbs himself.

It could be worse, she supposes.

She could be working under DiNozzo instead of beside him.

 

* * *

 

DiNozzo hasn’t grown on her at all, but about the point she watches Gibbs face down their murderer without flinching is when she realises he’s more than just weathered features and a steady glare. There’s a resolve there that’s not just admirable but also calming, even in a high-stakes situation, and he’s smiling in his mostly-serious, all-cocky manner at the unstable man.

“Get your hands in the air,” he drawls. He’s ridiculously outgunned against Leonard’s automatic, and Kate is unarmed and unable to help.

This isn’t exactly how any of them had wanted this case to end.

“Sure,” Leonard says calmly, turning with the automatic held level at Gibbs’ chest. He fires. Kate shouts, expecting to see the NCIS agent shot. But Gibbs moves faster than she could have imagined a man his age moving, the bullets missing him by a hair’s breadth, and fires twice into the assassin’s chest. Heart still skipping a little unevenly as she moves forward to check that their murderer is dead, Gibbs stalls her on her way.

This time, as he hands her the gun, his smile is genuine. His scent is sharper, more dangerous, and she readjusts her opinion of him once more; maybe Secret Service is wrong to recruit humans only. Whatever Gibbs is, she wants twenty at her back any time she’s going to be under fire.

“I expected something a little flashier,” she teases him, unable to hide the shakiness in her voice.

“Flashy gets you killed,” he remarks with astounding calm. “Flashy doesn’t tend to work as well as a bullet.”

She is never going to understand this man.

 

* * *

 

As it turns out, it’s not the vampire that loses her her job: it’s her own stubborn pride. She’d messed up badly enough today that she’s not sure if she’s even going to look for a job in another agency, or just take this as a hint and go back to college to reskill elsewhere. Maybe she can become a psychologist, like her sister, put her never-used profiling skills to use for once. And isn’t Rachel going to be _unbearable_ about that?

She tenders her resignation, isn’t surprised when it’s immediately accepted, and leaves the job with the feeling that she’s never really going to recover from this. It’s this she’s musing over as she registers the footsteps pounding the pavement behind her without consciously recognising them, reaching automatically for a gun she no longer carries.

Gibbs isn’t even panting when he slides to a stop next to her. “I heard you quit.”

Great. Now she’s going to be the laughing stock of NCIS as well as Secret Service. “Happy news gets around fast,” she mutters, sore that he’s seeing this but not sorry that she did it. “Yes, I resigned. It was the right thing to do.” It was the _only_ thing to do; she’d broken the rules.

She tries not to let it show how much that hurts.

Gibbs outpaces her without looking back as he ducks under the security bar of the parking lot. “Yup,” he says, leaving her staring blankly after him like he hadn’t just chased her out of the airfield. But, he continues: “Pull that crap at NCIS, I won’t give you a chance to resign.”

A job offer?

At NCIS?

“You want me to work with that vampire?” she calls after him before she can stop herself.

Looking over his shoulder at her finally, he laughs, a rolling bark of a sound. “DiNozzo’s an acquired taste,” he says, and smiles. “See you Monday, Agent Todd.”

And he’s gone, just as quickly and inexplicably as he’d appeared.

When she considers his offer, she thinks, well, why not? If there’s anything she’s learned over the past two days, it’s that she has horizons that seriously need broadening.

And besides, what could possibly go wrong?


	2. Kate and the Vampire

As it turns out, working at NCIS has a steeper learning curve than Kate would have ever have thought. From the people to the work, it’s really not at all what Kate expected.

The forensics witch, Abby Sciuto, is a surprise, from her star-patterned fishnet stockings to the choker and wild, black pigtails. Her dress-sense is shocking, her personality even more so, and Kate loves her immediately. Of course, there’s Ducky, who she’s met, and Gibbs is rock steady, but she never thought she’d end up working alongside a vampire.

If there’s anyone who consistently surprises her the most, it’s Tony DiNozzo.

 

* * *

 

Not only does garlic fail to repel DiNozzo, he seems to really revel in the stuff. Kate watches him shove down his eighth piece of garlic and cheese pizza with extra garlic, barely chewing as it disappears into his mouth like a well-oiled factory line. It’s revolting. It’s rude.

It’s actually pretty impressive.

The smell of garlic hangs around the squad room for hours afterwards. Every time her teammate comes near her that day he brings with him a fresh waft of the stuff and, by the end of the day, she’s absolutely sure that garlic doesn’t work against vampires, but she’s starting to feel pretty nauseated by it herself.

Gibbs walks in, coffee in hand, and immediately wrinkles his nose, looking irritated. “DiNozzo, what have I told you?” he grumbles.

DiNozzo sheepishly covers the pizza box on his table with a magazine, doing his best to look innocent. His tone is contrary, despite his apologetic expression: “No one likes a stinky agent. Sorry, Boss. Won’t happen again.”

“I thought vampires only drink blood,” she grumbles, fanning a file in front of her nose. There’s a noise that almost sounds like a chuckle from Gibbs’ direction, despite how avidly he appears to be studying his computer monitor.

“DiNozzo’s not a very good vampire,” he says, and smirks.

Tony appears like a ghost behind her, smelling strongly of garlic-y mouthwash and giving her his trademark grin. “Maybe not,” he says smugly, “but I am an _exceptionally_ special agent.”

 

* * *

 

He wears dark shades in the sunlight but seems otherwise unbothered by it. In fact, after three hours walking around a park searching for minute clues among the tree debris, Kate’s pretty sure that he’s faring better than she is. Even Gibbs seems slightly ruffled by the heat, in that he’s gruffer than usual and his average DiNozzo head slap rate has increased by at least twenty-three percent. By the fourth hour, her shirt is stuck to her back with sweat and her head is beginning to thump unpleasantly. The last few mouthfuls of her water bottle are tepid and do little to ease the growing headache as she continues to woefully scan the ground. Maybe she should have gone back to college…

DiNozzo’s hand brushes hers, and it’s wonderfully cool as he passes her a fresh water bottle. Taking it gratefully, she almost groans as the cold liquid runs down her throat. “You’re a lifesaver, Tony,” she tells him.

“A compliment? Now I know you’re dehydrated.” He’s an ass, always, and now is no exception, holding up an evidence bag and waggling it under her nose. “Besides, you get sloppy when you’re thirsty, _Special_ Agent Todd. You missed something.”

She glares at the gum wrapper in the bag. “That’s rubbish. It’s irrelevant.”

“Everything is relevant until proven otherwise,” says a gruff voice over her shoulder. Gibbs: looming, as per usual. She’s pretty sure he’s gotta be some sort of elf-kind, minus the ears. There’s no human on earth with hearing that good. Hell, half the time _Tony’s_ hearing isn’t even that good. But Gibbs seems uncaring of her startled glance, barking, “Grab your gear, we’re going home.”

Making a mental note to ask Abby just what Gibbs actually is, she trails appreciatively after the rest of her team to the car and out of the sun, calling shotgun and being ignored, as usual, as Tony uses the gifts his species gives him to race her there.

 

* * *

 

The partition behind Tony’s desk is steadily being overtaken by a collage of snapshots and photos reminiscent of a fourteen-year-old girl’s bedroom. Most of them are similar in that they feature beautiful women and Tony himself, the centre of attention as always. They’re a haphazard mess, some photos covering others, some bent and buckled by files and paperwork shoved against them. But there are some that Kate notes are placed more carefully. They’re right where they fall perfectly into someone’s field of vision, if that person was to lean back in their chair and tilt their head nonchalantly to the side.

At first, it’s a worn photo of Gibbs and Ducky, Gibbs partially facing the camera and clearly in the process of walking away. Soon, a photo of Abby hugging her stuffed hippo joins it, followed by a shot in autopsy catching Ducky and Gerald in the middle of a spirited debate. Other photos of their team slowly accumulate carefully around them, pinned with precise care. They’re all similar in that DiNozzo is in none of them.

He’s out doing the coffee run when she places a file on his desk and quickly checks the wall for additions on one particular day. Despite half-expecting it, it’s still a thrill when she finds what’s new; there’s a photo of her on her first day at NCIS, sneering ungracefully at the camera with shoes in hand, tucked partially under the photo of Abby.

When Tony returns, she thanks him extra warmly for the coffee, ignoring his nervous expression, and spends the rest of the day knowing that there’s a hidden smile at the corner of her mouth. But she refuses to let him see that he’s pleased her; she does still have her dignity.

 

* * *

 

She’s visiting Abby in her lab and admiring her attempt to animate her stuffed hippo—no success so far, although Abby swears that she saw his tail twitch once—, when DiNozzo wanders through the door and is promptly tackled by the enthusiastic forensics witch. “Tony, no! You can’t come in here!” Abby is pushing him back outside the door and trying to slam it in his face. Kate just stares. It’s not the weirdest thing she’s seen in this lab, true, but it’s up there.

Tony shoves his foot into the gap, immovable once he’s made the decision to be stubborn, and frowns at them both. “What are you girls up to?” he asks suspiciously. Suddenly, his gaze brightens. “Are you showing her where your tattoo is, Kate?”

“She already knows where my tattoo is,” Kate teases, seeing his gaze promptly, and in quick succession, flicker from surprised to curious to downright salacious. “Abby, what on earth are you doing?”

“I’m about to charm Tony’s hair blue if he doesn’t get his foot out my doorway,” Abby says, crossing her arms menacingly. Kate watches with interest as Tony backs up so fast he sends Gibbs’ coffee flying as he steps unexpectedly out of the elevator. In all the commotion, none of them had heard the tell-tale _ding._

“Oh, shi-sorry Boss!” Tony stammers, trying to mop up the spilt coffee on Gibbs’ shirt with his tie.

Gibbs just glares.

“Abby?” he asks, with his face set in the kind of expression that Kate has only ever seen on mothers with screaming children before.

Abby shifts, looking guilty. “He can’t come in, Gibbs! It’s for his own safety!”

“You let Kate in!” Tony says accusingly. “I’m much safer than Kate! She’s a human catastrophe.”

“Hey,” says Kate, and is ignored by everyone.

“Abby.” Gibbs’ voice is a warning as he walks into the lab. Abby darts to the table, which is an uncharacteristic mess of runes and herbs with her stuffed hippo, Bert, sitting in the middle, immovable and slightly singed. She snatches up a baggie of leaves to wave them about as she backs up further from the door where Tony is pouting sadly, sensing he’s winning this bout of sibling rivalry.

“Do you know what this is?” she asks. “It’s St John’s Wort. It’s used to treat mental disorders and as a natural sedative—”

“Are you saying I’m crazy?” Tony says, pout intensifying. “Gee, thanks, Abby, I didn’t realise you cared.”

“—it’s also used as a demon repellent,” Abby finishes, averting her gaze from the sullen vampire. “I didn’t know if it would hurt you. I didn’t realise I was going to be working with it until today, else I’d have warned you.”

The silence in the room is broken by Gibbs walking forward and taking the bag. He studies it momentarily, before tossing it back on the table. “It’s harmless,” is his short reply. “Only moderately useful on malevolent creatures, not DiNozzos. But, next time you work with something that might be a danger, ask.” The three teammates watch him exit, awkwardly avoiding eye contact with him as he mutters about coffee and ties. The elevator dings, and he’s gone.

The silence is painful. Abby breaks first. “Tony, I’m sorry…”

DiNozzo fixes her with a gaze that Kate can only describe as puppyish. “You should be, Abs. I mean, do you really think I’m crazy?”

 

* * *

 

She’s not expecting the guy they’re chasing to scoop what looks like a handful of glitter out of his pocket, and she’s certainly not expecting him to turn and throw it back in their faces. Since Tony is, as always, in front of her, she manages to avoid the worst of it, but ends up on the ground anyway when she trips over her partner. He’s curled over weird, having dropped as though he’d slammed into a wall instead of a cloud of sparkles.

“Seriously?” she wheezes, her breath gone from landing awkwardly on her ribs. “You eat garlic by the handful but get taken out by a palmful of glitter? What the hell even are you?”

White-knuckled hands are covering his face until he lowers them, eyes squeezed shut, and she immediately stops joking around. The skin revealed around his eyes is pock-marked with tiny, bubbling burns and she can see the deadly flecks working their way into his skin and leaving weeping welts in their path. Despite how sure she is that he’s in agonising pain—he’s not making any sound, and that’s clue number one—there’s no time to help him, because the guy they’re chasing has seen his chance and is coming back at them; he moves way too fast to be human and there are sharp canines in his twisted smile.

She’s not quick enough to get out of this one on her own.

The desperate “Gibbs!” that launches from her mouth as she aims and fires in one smooth, determined motion is completely involuntary, and she hopes that his hearing is as good as she suspects or she’s definitely going to die here. The bullet has nicked the monster—and he _is_ a monster, a way that DiNozzo has never been, her body going rigid with primal fright at the twisted inhumanity in the snarling face looming—but he’s still coming.

DiNozzo’s gone weirdly, terrifyingly, quiet behind her. Heart hammering, she aims again. She knows she won’t have time to fire. The seconds before he reaches her feel infinitely more precious because she’s pretty sure they’ll be her last.

He’s on her.

There’s pain and fear; there’s a flash of silver fur. She’s not really aware of anything for sure, just that there’s a weight on her and then there’s nothing but the sky above, the cold cement under her back, and the other vampire screaming. She’s left gasping on her back with her shoulder against Tony, his hand fumbling for her arm and gripping her tight. She looks at him and he doesn’t look back, eyes and mouth still firmly shut against the glitter burning its way through him.

Then, she looks at the wolf. It doesn’t look back, busy saving their lives.

Jaws snap on the vampire, once and then again. Each bite is careful, precise, and the rogue vampire won’t be moving again. His throat is torn and he doesn’t bleed, unlike Tony behind her who’s bleeding plenty. Kate is on the damp ground panting, her gun empty and Tony still hanging on like she’s a lifeline he desperately needs, and she’s never been so goddamned glad to be alive.

“Thanks, Boss,” she whispers, and the wolf nods.

 

* * *

 

Later, Ducky patches them up, clucking his tongue disapprovingly over the shallow scratches on her shoulder where the vampire had grabbed her. It’s not hard to imagine what would have followed that if Gibbs hadn’t been there, and Tony is frighteningly quiet about it as well. She’s shaken and nauseous and, when he takes her hand in his and squeezes reassuringly, she can feel his hand shaking too. Both of them fucked up today.

Gibbs sits by DiNozzo as Ducky and Gerald carefully pick every speck of silver nitrate from his face and neck. The burns look vicious, but small, and Ducky assures them that they’ll heal quickly.

“What’d we learn today?” Gibbs asks quietly, his eyes on Tony.

“Kate goes in front,” is the cheeky answer, betrayed by how pale his face is behind the burns.

Gibbs ignores that. “We’re not infallible,” he says, looking at Kate. And: “We’re not immortal,” at Tony. “Don’t get cocky.”

It’s the only warning they’re going to get. He won’t tolerate sloppiness like that again.

Ducky’s finished, leaving Kate sitting with Tony alone as the others filter away. He’s blank-faced and shivering—they’re reassured that it’s mild shock from contact with the silver and nothing more, but she’s worried about him still.

And that’s something else she’d never expected when she’d first begun work here. But, Tony being Tony, looks up and meets her concerned gaze with a shaky grin, warning her: “If you tell Abby that I’m allergic to glitter, I’m going to share those pictures of you I found on the internet.”

Maybe she’s not as good a judge of character as she’d thought, but she’s never been gladder to have been wrong about someone.


	3. Kate and the Golem

DiNozzo pulls a face into the handset, rolling his eyes at whoever has the misfortune of being stuck on the other end. “Okay, Agent McGee? Just secure the area and wait for us to get there.”

Kate leans against Gibbs’ desk grinning at the irritated expression on her partner’s face, but her grin turns quizzical when he hangs up with a clatter. “Case Agent at Norfolk sounds pretty green,” he tells her, picking at a spot on his sleeve. Kate braces herself; the unexpected has become the expected and when Tony says ‘green’ these days, she half expects a forest troll.

Despite this, she’s still not ready for Timothy McGee.

“Hello,” he manages to say to her, greeting her with a shy smile. Her first thought is that Tony is absolutely going to eat him alive. “I’m Timothy. Tim. McGee. Tim McGee.” He’s babbling, nervous, eyes darting from her to the widely grinning DiNozzo, who is probably already picturing how easy this kid is going to be to haze. She kicks DiNozzo’s ankle, savouring his choked yelp, and steps forwards with her hand extended.

“Special Agent Caitlin Todd. It’s nice to meet you, Agent McGee.” His hand is dry and too cool to the touch, oddly resistant to the pressure of her hand. It’s almost like touching Tony, except Tony’s skin feels like, well, _skin,_ not a leather glove pulled tight over something concrete underneath. It’s a quickly solved mystery: when McGee draws his arm back, she catches a glimpse of a sigil that gleams silver etched into the back of his hand and wrist. If she was to get a mage to tap at that sigil, she knows a matching one will appear on the back of his neck.

Those sigils only serve one purpose: to give life to men made of clay.

He’s a golem.

By the way he wilts as her eyes skim from his hand to his face, he knows that she’s guessed it and he’s expecting the worst. But she’s not thrown off, not even slightly. After all, she’s a woman who’s had to fight for her place in the world, but she bets she hasn’t fought half as hard as he has for even one iota of the respect she demands.

“And I’m _extra_ Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo,” Tony butts in, pushing past her to grab McGee’s hand and shake it enthusiastically. “We spoke—well, rather, I spoke, you stuttered—on the phone earlier today.” Kate tenses. People don’t generally react too favourably to a vampire shaking their hand and Tony never seems to get that, but McGee doesn’t hesitate at all before returning the gesture.

He just says, “Shall we get to work?” and brushes his palm over his computer, which thrums to life, although Kate is watching closely and knows that, despite the pretense, he hadn’t touched a single button to turn it on When DiNozzo plants himself on the desk next to McGee, putting himself firmly in the other agent’s personal space without McGee flinching or twitching away, Kate finds herself warming further to the awkward man.

When he glances up at her and grins, the smile she returns is genuine.

 

* * *

 

McGee works well with them and begins appearing more and more around the office. He’s still as shy and reserved as the first time they’d met, but always eager to please. Unfortunately, any attempt to put him at ease is hampered by DiNozzo’s determined hazing of the new guy, and she can’t help but lose her temper with the obstinate vampire.

“Lay off Tim, would you?” She’s cornered Tony in the break room as he taps at the side of the vending machine, carefully cocking his head to listen to the sound of the metal echoing in the hopes of causing a candy congestion.

“Sweet on McGeeky, are you, Kate?” he asks, finding a spot on the vending machine that apparently pleases him and slapping it with a flat palm.

Kate watches the candy dislodge and fall down into the hatch, shaking her head disapprovingly at him as he makes a gleeful noise. “No, I just think that you’re being a little harsh on him. He can’t help what he is.”

The atmosphere in the room changes suddenly, switching from everyday bitching him out to something sharper, more unsettling.

Tony snaps the candy in two and hands her half. “What are you implying?” he asks. There’s a gleam in his eye that doesn’t match his casual smile. She finds her eyes drawn to his mouth, a habit she thought she’d beaten months ago, drawn towards the canines that gleam dangerously. And she doesn’t answer, throat running dry at the rare display of her partner’s predatory side. Some small part of her brain wants to run, knees attempting to buckle under her and bladder pinching tight. It takes a supreme effort to push the fear back down. She knows she’s pissed him off, but she can’t find the words to ask _how._

It’s the same kinda feeling that had followed almost getting shanked by the rogue vampire months ago, the same primal ‘danger, danger’ that drives logical thought away.

“DiNozzo,” says a low, warning voice behind her, and Tony turns on his heel and stalks out without another word. Kate takes another gulping breath in a room that suddenly feels much warmer, fighting the part of her brain that’s trying to insist she’d nearly died here for some uncertain reason. Watching her with an unfathomable expression, Gibbs is silent and waiting for an explanation.

“I upset him,” she tries to explain, horrified to realise that she’s shaking. “That was my bad.” The candy in her hand is warm and sticky, half-melted, oozing between trembling fingers. She knows Gibbs sees the quivering and hates him for seeing the weakness that comes with being a human surrounded by creatures that traditionally prey on humanity. That might have changed, but the instinctual memory remains: something inside her and every other human on this earth still remembers being hunted.

“He can’t help what he is,” Gibbs says. There’s no emotion in his voice, but Kate still knows she’s failed some kind of test.

“He can’t help being a geek,” she clarifies.

“We are what we are,” he responds, relaxing minutely, and she knows they’re okay.

 

* * *

 

She’s tied to a chair, disarmed, and alone. If Gibbs had been in the car before she’d gotten jumped, this wouldn’t have happened—he’d have sniffed out Curtin before he’d had the chance to pull a gun on her. If Tony had been there, she could’ve called out and he’d have been inside and by her side before her human captor had had the time to even reach her.

Instead, it’s McGee that she’s partnered with, and he’s so green that, even if she could get his attention, she’s not sure that she would. Not just green, but unknown as well—golems are rare enough that she doesn’t actually know how fatal a shot from the handgun Curtin has on her would be. Her reliance on her team is hateful, the thought of leading a greener agent into a trap is even more so, and she curses silently at her helplessness.

“Kate, are you there? Come in,” crackles McGee’s voice from the radio on the counter. She tugs furiously at the ropes around her wrist, eyes darting to the doorway Curtin had moved out of. It goes to the hallway, the bedrooms, and he hasn’t returned. Could be anywhere. Could be outside, sneaking up on McGee right now… the radio crackles again, and she just can’t reach it. If he walks in here to his death because she’s too shit at her job to expect danger at every corner—and she’s sure _that’s_ gotta be one of Gibb’s rules—she’ll never forgive herself.

But there’s nothing she can do, and the door opens. McGee sidles in, gun held steadily in front of him and never exposing himself. Kate meets his gaze, and realises she’d, once again, underestimated the people around her. McGee has this.

“Where’s Curtin?” he asks, untying her fast as she keeps her eyes locked on the doorway. There’s a moment when she’s loose where she could’ve requested his gun so she could clear the house but, instead, stays back and lets him prove himself. He’s not the one with rope burns on his wrists, so she figures this moment of proving is earned.

Later, she has to face Gibbs and admit that she was overpowered. It’s as impossible as always to tell what he’s thinking, but when she tells him about how McGee saved her ass, she sees a flicker of approval in his eyes.

Approval, not surprise, and that—not his species—is why he’s a better agent than she is.

 

* * *

 

“Do you know why I want to join your team?” McGee asks her one day when she’s alone in the squad room. It’s so oddly forthright of him that, for a moment, all she can do is gape.

“No?” she finally answers. The moment that passes between them is charged. “The way DiNozzo treats you, I’d have thought you’d be longing to get back to Norfolk.”

McGee laughs, genuinely amused. “That’s exactly why I want to stay,” he says, still smiling. “Tony looks at me and he sees a gamer, a geek, an agent still wet behind the ears.” This time when he pauses, his eyes gleam with more than laughter. “He looks at me and sees a person, not a creation.”

Kate’s seen the way people react to Tony, the hatred and mistrust his kind inspire automatically without them ever trying to know him as an individual. Shit, she just has to look at how she’d first reacted, that night on Air Force One, to know what people think when they look at him. McGee’s the only person she’s ever seen who’d reached out to shake Tony’s hand without hesitation. Some of this must show on her face, because he looks away before continuing.

“I didn’t think I’d ever have the luxury of choosing my life for myself. I wasn’t created with freedom in mind. People look at me and that’s all they see, a golem created for servitude. Nothing but the marks on my limbs and neck.”

She stands, placing a hand gently on his arm. The other, she lifts, tapping her finger on the back of his neck. “You are more than this, Tim,” she says, touching the symbol that a mage would have painted onto the lifeless clay shell in order to animate it: “This may have given you your life…” She can feel the heat from the spelled, invisible glyphs on the back of his neck warming her fingers as her hand drops and takes his, holding it palm down and exposing the silvery runes running along his arm. They’re not the same as the ones on his throat; they’re much newer. “…but this gave you your freedom. Tony’s not the only one who sees that.”

They’re the magic marks given to every golem in the US when it was decided that no one was ever born simply to serve another. They’re simple and finite and describe what’s essentially indescribable: free will. So long as McGee wears them, he’ll never be controlled by another.

So long as he wears them, he’s his own man, and she’ll kneecap anyone who says otherwise.

At home that night, she thinks of the gratitude in a friend’s eyes: simple gratefulness for something she’d always taken for granted. The ability to choose her own path. When she’d begun at NCIS, she’d thought that being a human would hold her back.

She thinks of that appreciation and begins to believe that her humanity might just be her greatest asset.


	4. Kate and the Cat

Abby stands in front of Kate, looking shamefaced, hands on the box she’s plonked down between them and the most stubbornly apologetic expression Kate’s ever seen on her plastered across her face. “Ducky needs all this evidence down to autopsy,” she explains, shrinking down like she’s trying to hide behind the box. All Kate can see of her are the sticks she appears to have shoved into her hair poking up oddly, and her large green eyes almost obscured by the dark bangs hanging over-top.

Kate peers into the box, finding a bunch of inhalers they’d seized in an unrelated drug bust. Probably benign, Abby was sure, but still: “Before you’ve tested it? How strange.”

Abby nods, hair bobbing enthusiastically with the gesture. One of Ducky’s bells hangs from the right pigtail, tied carefully with a ribbon bedecked with tiny, stitched-on broomsticks. “I can’t go down to autopsy,” she rattles off quickly, closing her eyes: “I had this dream a month ago and ever since then it scares the hell outta me. Why are you laughing?”

Too late, Kate tries to stifle her giggling and accidentally snorts. It’s not dignified, but her colleagues’ weird bad dreams are a frequent source of hilarity to her. First Tony, now Abby, and if there’s _anyone_ she’d expect to be immune to bad dreams, it’s the gal who sleeps in a coffin. She manages to spit out, “I’m sorry, I was just thinking of Tony. He has bad dreams too—” and pauses for effect, before finishing, “about _vampires_.” And she’s laughing again even though she shouldn’t be, because Tony had looked really miserable about the dream, nightmare, whatever, but, really? How does he even look in a mirror if the thing that goes ‘boo’ at him in the night is _himself?_

Abby wrinkles her nose, one eyebrow shooting up under her choppy fringe. “Tony has nightmares about… vampires? That only makes sense because it’s him.” But there’s a pull to her smile; she’s genuinely dreading taking that evidence down.

Kate takes pity on the miserable witch. “Would you like me to take it down?”

“Oh please!” Abby exclaims, handing her the chain of evidence sheet with a flourish and gesturing for her to sign. “Oh, and don’t go in. Ducky’s doing an infectious autopsy, so just leave it outside the door.”

One hand resting on the evidence box, Kate narrows her eyes at her. “The only body down there is that terrorist,” she says thoughtfully. “You haven’t done a blood test yet, how would he know it’s infectious?” After all, the bloods for the man are in the box she’s got her palm hooked against.

The bell in her hair chimes softly as Abby shrugs. “I have no idea. Thanks, Kate!”

Kate watches her bounce away, frowning. Then, she picks up the evidence box and walks calmly into a nightmare.

 

* * *

 

It’s a trap and why is she not surprised? The dead terrorist Ducky is supposed to be autopsying— _will_ be autopsying by the end of the day, if Kate has her way—turns out to be an alive terrorist now holding a gun on them. Nothing recently has made Kate as mad as seeing what he’s done to Ducky’s assistant, Gerald: the man is in agony after having his knees shot out by the madman. Held hostage in her own damn workplace and the worst bit about it is that she’s not alone. Ducky is here, Gerald too, and she’s responsible for getting them out of here. She has to. There’s no failing allowed here. No second chances, no startling realisations about her colleagues’ competencies to save the day: they’re relying on her and, if she lets them down this time, they all die.

“Are you any good with this gun, Caitlin?” asks their captor. He’s a handsome man but frighteningly so, with sharp, angled features on a narrow, hungry face. His eyes, green eyes, are wild and Kate feels pinned by them. When he smiles at her, cradling his gun loosely in his palms, his human teeth gleam white. There’s something about him that makes her feel small and hunted, despite the lack of canines.

“Give it back and I’ll demonstrate,” she deadpans, but he’s close to her and she knows he can hear the way her heart is slamming in her chest. Maybe it’s the way he stands that makes him deadly, poised on his toes with his body tipped at an angle that a human would find uncertain. Maybe it’s the way he moves, with precise, measured steps that betray how fast he could move if he wanted.

Maybe it’s the way he tastes her without touching her, his tongue flicking against the air every time he opens his mouth.

He purrs, “Mm, ever fire it in anger?” and it’s a croon, almost sensual. If she’d been invited to his bedroom with that kind of voice, without any knowledge of who he is, she’s not sure she’d have said no. His nostrils flare, scenting her, and she’s torn between terror and a weird attraction that’s almost just as frightening. And he’s circling, moving around her without making a sound on the slick floor, all their eyes following him.

“I’d love to right now,” she replies. He laughs with a voice that’s a rumble and a promise.

She realises.

By now, Gibbs must have worked out that something’s wrong, but she’s not sure that she wants him down here with their captor. Not now she’s recognised the way he moves, the mirror-shine to his eyes when the light reflects in their green-gold depths, the sinuous curl to his spine as though he’s tensing to leap.

She’s seen how cats like to play with their prey before they finally kill it.

 

* * *

 

The hours tick on and the tension ticks with it. Gerald, despite Ducky’s best care, is going to bleed out from the ‘warning’ bullets their captor put into him if something doesn’t give. Already, he’s going quiet. Kate watches him fade, knowing that it’s happening again; she’s once again failing to stop everything going wrong. If she was a vampire like Tony, or a werewolf like Gibbs, or even Abby with her witchcraft… but she’s not, she’s Kate, a human, and all she can do is wait and hope and fail.

“I can’t wait to weigh your liver,” Ducky snarls. Kate sees something dark and dangerous in the medical examiner’s eyes. For once, his movement isn’t accompanied by the subtle sound of bells.

Their captor snarls back. The sound is feral and cruel.

 

* * *

 

Kate picks up one of the autopsy knives, but it disappears from her hand and back into its place on the gleaming tray. Ducky hisses, “No, he wants you to use it,” and she can see the glitter of magic settling back into his skin. Gerald writhes on the table. Ducky’s magic is only doing so much for him. There’s not much else that can be done. They’re watched with narrowed eyes that see everything they do. She regrets her rashness, facing those green eyes without showing her fear. Sure, she’s scared—but he doesn’t need to know she is, even though she’s sure he can smell the stink of it on her. It doesn’t matter. This man— _cat_ —doesn’t hold a card to how scary Gibbs, or even Tony, can be.

“Doctor Mallard thinks you were daring me to pick up this knife,” she says, meeting that gaze with what she hopes is a calm expression.

“The proper term is a dissecting tool,” the man corrects, running one hand lovingly over it.

And Ducky hums, “Perhaps you should give me a go,” in a voice that doesn’t sound like him at all. When he moves very slightly towards them, a pressure builds in her ears as though she’s been submerged in water. Around him, his form is wavering and false, hurting her eyes to focus on for too long. There’s no glimpse of the younger man hidden behind his form anymore, or of the genial gentleman he is usually; just magic and a hidden storm and the barest whispered promise of the scent of copper.

There’s a flash of pink as the man runs his tongue over his lip, tasting the thick salt in the air. “Oh, I think not, doctor,” he says. “You would kill me without hesitation. It is in your nature, is it not?”

Ducky just smiles, no longer at all safe or familiar.

 

* * *

 

The tension snaps. It culminates.

The day, as all days do, ends, and it ends in blood.

They’re stuffed into body drawers as their captor attempts to make his escape. She’s furious about this—he _can’t_ escape, dammit, he owes them for Gerald! —and she’s pushing at the door, feeling it give against her hands. It’s not made to resist being opened from the inside and she _will_ get out and hunt that fuc—

But there’s a low voice outside that she recognises as Gibbs, followed by another that she knows more intimately than her own by this point: _his._ The green-eyed man with the cat-purr voice, features on their own that she finds pleasing but that she’ll never enjoy again when combined. Infuriated by this, she slams against the door. The lock gives and she’s out, sprawling on the floor and popping up again just in time to be semi-deafened by the rapport of a gun firing. The sound of the shot coincides with the exact moment her heart forgets how to keep beating.

Gibbs falls in the silence following. Maybe he yells, maybe he doesn’t.

Werewolf or not, it hurts to be shot. It’s a shock. She can’t tell from here if it’s fatal, and she doesn’t have time to get closer because it’s happening again. A rush of movement and a creature she doesn’t have a hope of outrunning is on her. The man turns and falls into himself, form folding into a sinuous body that moves with startling speed.

The leopard lands on the table before her, black lips pulled back over impossibly long fangs. She stares her green-eyed death in the face without flinching. If she dies here, she dies like Gibbs would: making sure what kills her knows that she’s unimpressed by it. And she takes a breath, maybe her last.

Takes another.

Before her next, he’s gone, paws silent on the tiled floor. She exhales slowly, remembering how, and then she goes to pick up Gibbs.

 

* * *

 

It’s a through and through of his right shoulder and Gibbs, despite fighting it every step of the way, is forced by Ducky into following Gerald along to ER. It’s a possible surgery job and they’re all warned before he’s taken out that if he sees a single one of them there, they’re all working unpaid overtime for the foreseeable future. A Gibbs hurt, Kate is quickly learning, is a Gibbs best avoided.

He stops her once before he leaves, and it’s a startling, confusing conversation. He’s fierce and frightening, the fingers of his good hand biting deep into her arm as he grips tight and stares intensely at her. “You find him,” he growls, more wolf than man on his features. “Kate, you find that sonofabitch, do you hear me? We do _not_ let him walk in here, on _our_ land, and take what’s ours! Do you understand?”

“Yes, yes,” she replies, trying to tug away. He’s been like this since she picked him off the floor, half-ranting, half-wild, and with a manic obsession to his eyes that she doesn’t like the look of. Tony is steering clear and Abby is silent on the matter, only Ducky working to calm him down.

“You find him,” Gibbs repeats, letting go of her finally and touching at his arm, actually snarling when a paramedic tries to get him to follow her. “ _Now_ , Kate—get Tony and get out there, now!”

“Okay, Gibbs,” she soothes, and watches them lead him away before going to find Tony.

 

* * *

 

Tony is grating in the after. Overbearing and snarly in a way that proves to her that they’d scared him today, because he’d only be this annoying if he’d been thinking that he’d never get a chance to annoy her again. Which, in itself, is possibly more irritating than the fact that he keeps insinuating that she _let_ that bastard in autopsy get away, from some kind of, what, Stockholm syndrome?

“You can’t identify with your captor in an hour,” she tells him, seeing something in his eyes that looks a lot like suspicion. It’s doing a good job erasing any pity she’d felt for how worried he must have been.

He moves closer to her and, for a moment, all Kate can smell is a memory of copper and fur. “Oh, I don’t know,” he says bitterly, his own eyes just as savage as Gibbs’ had been but without any of the pain dulling them. “Maybe it’s like falling in love. That can happen just like _that_.” He snaps his fingers for emphasis and turns away.

She doesn’t stay and keep searching for the man who’d gotten away. She just doesn’t have the strength, not today, and the director agrees. They’re all sent home.

It’s over.

The dream of a green-eyed cat is a nightly occurrence after that, and not entirely unexpected.


	5. Kate and the Hunters

Gibbs struggles with the sling his injury has left him with, trying with difficulty to wrap it behind his back. Kate hesitates. She’s tempted to go over and help but knows Gibbs would never allow it. “Gibbs?” she questions hesitantly, earning herself a dark glare as he drops the sling, kicking it against his desk and turning his back on it with a snort of frustration.

The awkward moment is dispelled, as so many awkward moments are, by Tony.

“Boss, Kate,” he greets them, sauntering in with a tray of coffees in one hand and casually placing one on Gibbs’ desk, then scooping up the sling with his other hand. Gibbs takes the coffee and sling with a scowl, placing his arm in it and flipping the tie over his shoulder. Kate almost chokes on her coffee as, without even missing a beat in his rapid-fire recital of the movie he’d watched the night before, Tony calmly assists with looping it into place around his chest.

She wonders if, once she’s worked with Gibbs for as long as Tony has, her boss would ever treat her the same as he treats his senior agent. Somehow, she doubts it. There’s something special there between the stalwart werewolf and his cocky pet vampire.

 

* * *

 

The child has been missing in the forest for over twenty-four hours, and time is running out. Kate looks at the picture they have of the girl, seeing Abby in her crooked smile and McGee in the shy way she peers at the camera. She knows she can’t possibly comprehend how the parents must be feeling. The girl’s father is a Marine. When he sees them walking towards the campgrounds where the search parties are gathered, he strides to Gibbs and takes the hand that’s free of the sling, holding it and begging with his eyes and his words for them to find his daughter.

Kate stands with Gibbs as the FBI werewolves take to the forest in their canine forms, tails held high and bristling with excitement. She does him the favour of pretending that she doesn’t see the way he watches after them longingly. Tony could be out there—his senses are almost as keen as the wolves—but, instead, he hovers by them and barks orders at anyone hapless enough to wander into his line of sight.

When she takes her eyes off Gibbs for a moment to study a map, he vanishes. She finds him standing by the tree line, Tony a few paces behind. “You can’t shift with a bullet wound, Boss,” she hears Tony murmur as she approaches them cautiously. “Ducky will have both our hides if you tear it more.”

Gibbs snorts and shakes his head. “I know that, DiNozzo.” His blue eyes are fierce as he turns to glare at them both. “What I don’t know is why you’re here babysitting me, instead of out there being useful.”

Tony’s an idiot, but he knows when to give in. “Don’t let him out of your sight,” he says as he walks past her to join a search party.

“Shall I use a leash?” she calls after him.

“If you’re tired of living, Todd, go right ahead.”

Fornell returns two hours later with the little girl held gently in his arms and Gibbs hangs around only long enough to see her returned to her overwhelmed parents. Kate watches him leave and wonders how long he’ll let himself be sidelined.

 

* * *

 

In the time since she’s been at NCIS, Kate has seen petty squabbles break out over the smallest of things. It’s hard enough to get the people at homo-speciative workplaces to mesh; she supposes she shouldn’t be surprised that a hetero-speciative workplace like this has its problems too.

Shapeshifters in general are uncomfortable around were-creatures. Kate doesn’t really see the distinction between the two, but the wolf shifter from HR always makes sure that if he has to drop by their floor, he does so when Gibbs is out of the office. When she asks Kevin why, he mumbles something about ethics and pretends to take a phone call. It’s not just that: the satyr working on Balboa’s team complains constantly about the smell of magic from Abby’s lab; Abby insists that the IT brownies in the basement keep casting spells to deliberately interfere with her equipment; and Kate’s pretty sure that the korrigan from the equipment locker keeps flooding the women’s bathroom on purpose to annoy the cat shifter from law. But, when Gibbs walks out of the elevator one day and whistles loudly to get everyone’s attention, no one makes a sound.

“Agent Pacci has been murdered,” Gibbs says. Despite his gentle tone, everyone hears him.

A ripple of furious magic that flickers across the room stands the hairs on the back of Kate’s neck on end. The low rumble of growls that follows after is almost just as unsettling. In that moment, every grievance between the people of NCIS is put aside and Kate is silent as she sees the instant shift from an everyday workplace to a hunting ground.

No one hurts one of their own and gets away with it.

 

* * *

 

Ducky leans over the body sprawled in the elevator, his face uncharacteristically grim. Kate stands by him, holding the camera and fighting the nausea rising in her stomach. It’s different when the victim is someone they know. It’s different, unbelievably different, when the man that Ducky is working over is one that only yesterday had asked to borrow her stapler.

When Tony finally arrives, looking flustered, she holds the camera out to him with a smile she doesn’t feel. “Gibbs will have your ass for being late,” she warns him, glancing about for their boss. Tony ignores the camera, staring down at what’s left of Chris Pacci with an odd expression, his nostrils flaring.

Ducky stands, stripping off his gloves. “Killed by a human, or...?” Kate asks, the first question determined at a murder scene.

The ME flicks a glance at her before levelling his gaze on DiNozzo. “Vampire,” he says finally, voice strained. Even though he must have known this as soon as he’d walked onto the crime scene, she still feels Tony shudder against her. A rogue vampire in DC is an affront to every vampire living there. They’re allowed to police their own, under the condition that they police them well.

The murder of a federal agent by a vampire could spell an end to that truce.

“Kate, DiNozzo, get back to NCIS,” barks Gibbs from behind them, as he strides in, followed by Fornell. “This is an FBI case as of now.”

“You’re not fighting them on this?” Kate asks, stunned that he’s going to step aside on the murder of one of their own, without even a _whisper_ of complaint.

“Oh, I doubt Jethro has any plan to let us to do our jobs,” Fornell remarks. “I imagine he’ll be dogging my heels the whole time.” There’s a smile on his face, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

She hesitates, unsure, before nodding firmly and moving to follow the reticent Tony out. Gibbs brushes by her as she goes to enter the stairwell. “DiNozzo doesn’t leave the Navy yard,” he murmurs. “You keep on his six at all times.”

“Are you seriously suggesting he could be a suspect?” she snaps back, surprise making her careless.

Gibbs regards her with a dark look in his blue eyes. “Not if I can help it.”

 

* * *

 

Abby hugs Bert to herself, watching Kate with miserable eyes as she rants. “There’s two-hundred and seven registered vampires living in the DC area alone. Gibbs doesn’t actually believe that Tony has anything to do with this, does he?”

“I doubt it,” Kate replies. “But Fornell won’t hesitate to drag his name through the mud. Don’t worry, Gibbs has Tony’s back. He won’t let anything happen to him.”

But Abby frowns, rubbing her fingers over Bert’s ear. The investigation is side-eying the shit out of DiNozzo, and they’re all feeling the tension—Abby, especially. “I know, I shouldn’t doubt him. But it’s _Tony._ We can’t let anything happen to him, he’s family!”

Kate hugs her tightly, Bert squashed between them. “Pacci was family too, Abs.”

“All the more reason why Tony would never hurt him.”

 

* * *

 

“You think I don’t know why Gibbs has got me benched?” Tony demands, cornering her in the ladies’ room.

“This is the women’s bathroom, Tony.” She washes her hands and flicks them dry, patterning his shirt and tie with damp spots. “Not that I’d expect you, of all people, to respect boundaries.”

A woman hurries in, spots Tony, and nervously backs out again. Kate’s mouth goes dry at the mixed suspicion and fear on her face, emotions that weren’t there two days ago. She tries to smile brightly, draw attention back to herself, but knows instantly that he’s seen it. “You think she’s the first one to look at me like that?” he hisses, baring his teeth. “You think she’s the first to look at the report that says Pacci’s throat was torn open by a vampire, and make a connection to _these?_ You think she’s going to be the last?”

“No one who matters believes you had anything to do with it,” she says, knowing her words are empty.

Tony laughs. The sound is cold. “You were held hostage by a man seeking an inhaler filled with a genetically altered disease created to fatally target magical beings. A month later, we have an NCIS agent murdered by a vampire—an NCIS agent that works one desk over from the only vampire working law enforcement in DC. The singular act guaranteed to incite civil war between vampires and everyone else.” He pauses, crumpling slightly. “I think, at the moment, everyone who believes it matters.”

“They’re connected.” It’s not a question. There’s a gut feeling building that she’s pretty sure she’s caught from Gibbs.

“Rule forty. If it feels like someone is out to get you, they probably are.”

 

* * *

 

“This is not a good idea.”

That’s an understatement. They’re standing in an alley waiting for a ‘contact’ of Tony’s to show up, and they haven’t told Gibbs where they are.

Tony’s taking matters into his own hands.

“Gibbs is busy,” Tony says distractedly, peering about with one hand drifting about his weapon.

“Busy planning just how he’s going to kill us for this,” she mutters, miserable, and continues waiting. The tension hurts. Their contact is soundless until he’s two steps behind her and, from Tony’s amused glance when she notices he’s arrived, he’d known she was unaware of his arrival. “It would serve you right if I’d shot you just now,” she says coolly to Tony’s contact, who laughs. He’s young and dressed rattily, just a kid. A kid who looks like he’s been living rough.

“You wouldn’t be the first,” he jokes as he hands Tony a slip of paper. “We got people wanting a quick end to this one, Tony. They want your people cuffing this guy, keep things civil-like between all parties involved, yah?”

Kate peers at the paper, at the name and address scrawled on it. “We could have worked this out ourselves,” she points out, “without sneaking out on Gibbs.”

“You want to find a vampire, you ask a vampire,” Tony says. “Come on.”

“Back to NCIS to get Gibbs?”

It’s hopelessly optimistic to think that Tony isn’t on the warpath right now. His reply is short; he has a target and he’s zeroing in. “No. Call him from the car.”

This is going to go absolutely wrong, she can already tell.

 

* * *

 

“Where’s DiNozzo?” barks Gibbs, and he’s _pissed_. Kate swallows nervously at the expression on his face, noting McGee following behind him, looking sympathetic and slightly relieved.

“He wouldn’t let me go in with him,” she says, gesturing to the building she’s standing outside of, knowing it’s a weak excuse. That’s a rule for sure: never leave your partner alone.

Maybe that’s easy for Gibbs to say, but if she’d followed Tony when he’d told her to sit her ass down, she’d have ended up cuffed to the car with her own restraints.

The sounds of a gunshot shatters their conversation, and suddenly they’re all moving as one into the building, weapons drawn. In there, Tony is facing off with the vampire that killed Chris. Kate’s pretty sure she’s never going to forget the sight of Tony with his fangs fully extended, eyes dark and inhumane with fury. There’s a gash on his throat that’s long and shallow. His gun lays forgotten on the ground.

“His name was Special Agent Chris Pacci, and he was a friend,” Tony snarls to the perp, his voice unfamiliar. He lunges and goes down in a flurry of limbs, fighting with an animalistic kind of rage that stops Kate in her tracks. There’s nothing she can do here—not without firing her gun in a room full of friendlies.

Gibbs moves in a blur of fur and fangs, shifting into the form of a great silver wolf and dragging the rogue vampire off of Tony effortlessly. He’s silent as he does so, his bared teeth all the warning that the vampire is allowed. Kate’s suddenly very aware of the difference between a wolf shifter and a werewolf: Gibbs as a wolf stands almost as tall at the shoulder as Gibbs as a man. The sight of such a large predator should be unsettling.

It’s not. The silver wolf pins the vampire and looks up at her with familiar blue eyes, and she’s never felt safer.

She knows her part in this. “We take him alive, and he pays for his crimes,” she states, staring Tony down as their colleague staggers up and makes his own inhumane noise of utter fury. “He wants people to believe you’re a killer. Don’t give him the satisfaction of making it true.” The vampire under Gibbs is silent now, seemingly willing to take his chances with the legal system over the huge wolf and his furious agent.

Tony nods.

As they escort the murderer out, Kate sees the way Gibbs favours his shoulder again and smirks to herself. Guess Ducky’s going to have his chance to tell him off after all.

 

* * *

 

“You okay?” she asks DiNozzo as he picks up his bag and goes to leave that night.

He smiles at her brightly. “Peachy, Agent Todd. How was the memorial?”

“The director gave a nice eulogy,” she replies softly. “You could have been there. Chris would have wanted you there.”

His smile falters, leaving him looking bereft. “I don’t think his family would have appreciated that. But… thank you, Kate.”

“For what?”

He leans behind her desk, pulling her close into a hug and brushing his lips against her hair. She doesn’t respond, shocked by the odd show of affection. “Just for being you.” And, then, he leaves. The day is over, she thinks.

She’s wrong.

It’s past midnight and there’s a polysyllabic tune breaking into her dream; when she opens her eyes, it doesn’t cease. It’s not a surprise, it’s _never_ a surprise, when she answers her phone, groggy but alert and it’s Gibbs telling her to come into work immediately. It’s the early hours before dawn and she doesn’t have time to fix her hair or makeup, only hoping that Tony doesn’t beat her to the office. Maybe she’ll have time to work on her appearance between her getting there and Gibbs telling them what the hell is going on. Failing that, she’ll just deal with Tony’s teasing—she’s faced worse from him. It’s a comfort that when she walks into the squad room, she’s consoled by the sight of Abby, looking just as awful as she does, and Ducky, who looks as chipper as always.

“What’s going on?” she asks them, dropping her bag onto her desk and fumbling through it for the emergency cosmetics she knows are in there somewhere. “Where are Gibbs and Tony?”

“Haven’t the foggiest, my dear,” Ducky replies. Abby just shrugs, yawning sleepily as the elevator dings and McGee steps out, looking worn and confused.

The day begins again very suddenly for them all with Gibbs appearing on the stairway and barking: “Tony’s not coming.” He’s half-jogging down from the director’s office, and his face is cold. It’s the face he’d been wearing that day in autopsy, furiously savage at a threat looming. Or maybe, Kate realises with a sinking feeling, a threat already arrived.

“What do you mean he’s not coming?” Kate asks, seeing the question mirrored in Ducky and Abby’s concerned faces. McGee just looks dazed.

Gibbs strides to his desk, body language tense, hitting the button on his phone to replay the recorded messages. Tony’s slurred voice echoes out.

“Gibbs? Tried your mobile, no answer. I… I’m not feeling so well… I think I screwed up, Boss.”

There’s a clatter as the phone drops to the ground.

And, then, there’s silence.


	6. Kate and the Lost

Tony’s car is alone in the parking lot, untouched. The sight of it sitting there, with Gibbs standing beside it wearing an expression she’s never seen before, is chilling. They walk towards him, McGee silent and Kate’s eyes locked on Tony’s abandoned phone hanging from an evidence bag in Gibbs’ hand.

“Is he okay?” McGee asks her, catching her arm. “He doesn’t look okay…”

“I don’t know,” she replies honestly. It’s impossible to know how it feels for their boss, having been unable to protect one of his own. “Gibbs?” At her call, Gibbs turns his head, listening even without looking at them. She reiterates what they’d heard when asking about their missing partner in the bar he’d last been seen in: “No one saw Tony when he left the bar, but he wasn’t alone.”

“There was another vampire with him,” Gibbs says. “They were both dosed. There’s sweat here, and it stinks of adrenaline and anaesthetic.”

Sometimes, she’s incredibly jealous of his sense of smell.

“The owners of the bar gave us their surveillance footage, but it doesn’t extend to the parking lot,” McGee says, holding up a tape that Gibbs grunts at, turning away to scan their surroundings. His eyes linger on every exit, every blind corner. “I can review it back at NCIS, see who Tony left with.”

Gibbs turns unexpectedly, tossing the evidence bag at them. “Check out his cell-phone as well, who he contacted. I want their names and I want them now.”

McGee takes the bag, nodding. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “That will take time, Boss. If he was with a vampire… they don’t cooperate with law enforcement.”

It’s subtle, but Gibbs’s lip curls upwards, just slightly. Almost a snarl. “Time is something Tony doesn’t have, McGee. We find him. We find him, you understand?”

 

* * *

 

Abby and McGee are leaning over Tony’s cell when Kate enters the lab with a Caf-Pow as an offering for them. She has to dodge around Bert in some sort of spell-rune in the centre of the room, abandoned with the news about DiNozzo. Abby looks up at her. “Why are you holding a Caf-Pow?” she asks, immediately suspicious. Kate notes that she hasn’t applied her make-up yet or done her hair, still letting it fall lankly around her face despite the hours that have passed. “Gibbs brings me Caf-Pows, not you. Has something happened to Gibbs too?”

Kate cuts her off by handing her the drink, smiling tersely. “No, no… no. Gibbs is fine. I just need your help with something. Have you found who was at the bar with Tony?”

McGee nods, flicking his hand at the screen. Kate’s seen him work with computers enough to know that he doesn’t need the gestures to make them respond to him, but he always does anyway when people are watching him. Hiding his abilities, as much as he can. When he’s done, Abby’s screen shows a still from the surveillance. Tony and his contact from Pacci’s murder sit together at the bar, half-empty glasses in front of them. “His name is William Wiggins. It looks like him and Tony go way back, they’re both…” McGee pauses. “Well, they’re not exactly…”

Abby snorts angrily, shaking her head. “They’re not exactly welcome at the annual Vampire’s Appreciation Ball. Did you know Tony was disowned from his clan when he became a cop? Not that he needs them anyway, we’re his family now…”

Kate hadn’t known that. For all that Tony talks, he rarely says anything personal.

“This feels wrong,” Abby continues, staring intently at the screen to avoid looking at Kate. “Looking into Tony like this, it’s like we’re spying on him. He never told us about any of this, it’s _private_. Wiggins has lived on the street since he was driven out. He’s a born vampire, same as Tony—their clans are their families, they’re all they have. If Tony wasn’t here at NCIS, wasn’t with us, he’d be on the street too.”

Kate hugs her. “Wiggins is Tony’s contact. Is there anyone else with the DC vampire clan that we can contact? Check his call lists to see.”

With a harsh noise, McGee seems to choke on that. “You want us to talk to a _vampire?_ They hate cops. For all we know, they did this!”

There’s an easy answer to that, Kate squaring her shoulder and saying, “Someone told me once, if you want to find a vampire, you ask a vampire.”

 

* * *

 

“You’re either very brave or very foolish to come here, Special Agent Caitlin Todd,” the vampire purrs, pacing around them. Kate begins to really hope they haven’t miscalculated, noting the manipulation intended in the use of her full name—information they haven’t given him. There are touches of Tony in the way the vampire dresses, in the way he holds himself… but the expression on his face is one that DiNozzo has never worn in all the time she’s known him. He’s looking at Kate like she’s meat.

Holding her badge up, she feels McGee do the same by her side. The vampire hasn’t even looked once at McGee, his eyes only on Kate. “You’re Markus Dwight? We want to speak with you about the disappearance of two vampires in your clan’s area.”

“I’ll speak with you, Caitlin. But not the monstrosity you dared to bring with you.” Dwight cocks his head arrogantly. “I do have some pride, you know.”

McGee’s face doesn’t change as he stares the vampire down. “I’m a federal agent and expect to be treated with respect, Mr. Dwight.”

Kate can feel the moment turning ugly as the vampire curls his lip at her junior partner. Cutting in, she pulls the attention back to herself. “Anthony DiNozzo and William Wiggins. Your people are so adamant that they police their own—well, two of your own have gone missing. Do you know anything?”

Dwight snorts, a noise that’s completely out of place from the handsomely dressed man. “DiNozzo and Wiggins? I don’t know where you came up with the ludicrous idea that they are one of us. Turncoats, both of them.”

Kate opens her mouth to say something she’s probably going to regret, but McGee shoulders past her. “Listen here, Fangs,” he snaps with Tony-inspired bravado, and Kate’s both impressed and exasperated by it. “I don’t care how you feel about Tony, but you’re going to help us find him. Because, just think, how’s it going to look to everyone else when it’s plastered all over the news that you can’t even keep your own safe? Maybe they’ll rethink your ability to keep your people separate from the state.”

“This won’t be on the news,” Dwight growls.

There’s a flicker of light on the back of McGee’s neck as he draws on his powers. The light overhead hums and surges, and she can hear the sounds of TVs and radios powering on in surrounding rooms. “It will be on every news network.” McGee’s voice doesn’t waver. “I absolutely promise you that.”

Dwight narrows his eyes at them, expression turning concerned for just a single moment. “I was wrong. Clearly Caitlin was absolutely correct to bring you, clay-man.” He reaches down and pulls a USB from his pocket, chucking it at Kate. “Your fae doctor, get him to contact the MEs who conducted those autopsies. Our people refused to handle them, so they were done outside the clan. The acts were not endorsed by our leaders.” Kate watches him carefully as he hesitates. The tells are there, just like a human. Guilt, worry, shades of anger. “But they weren’t exactly discouraged.”

“Why would you give us this information if it’s going to lead back to your people?” Kate asks him, cautious.

“Oh, this won’t lead back to our people. It may lead you to DiNozzo. I do wish you luck. If you fail to find him, he will die a horrible, slow death.” And, in a heartbeat, he’s gone.

“He’s nothing like Tony,” McGee mutters, more to himself than anyone else. Kate nods, leading the way out. She waits until they’re outside the building and walking to their car, before turning to McGee and handing him the USB. McGee frowns at it. “I don’t trust him,” he says.

“I do,” Kate replies. “For all his bluster, he just helped us. If Tony and Wiggins got targeted because they work with us, then Dwight just painted a target on his back.”

“You have a point. If he hates DiNozzo so much, then why is he on Tony’s speed-dial?” McGee nods, running his fingers through his hair thoughtfully. “Now all we have to do is explain to Gibbs why we thought it was a good idea to meet a vampire alone…”

“You can start explaining now, McGee,” says a familiar, gruff voice. Gibbs straightens from his casual slouch on their car, looking pissed.

Oh boy.

 

* * *

 

“The bodies were already disposed of, Jethro. I was able to get hold of the autopsy reports and samples of materials that were found on the bodies. Abby already has them for testing.”

Gibbs stares at Ducky, frowning, Kate lingering by his side. “Well, why’d you call me down here?”

“I didn’t say I had nothing,” Ducky replies, waving his hand over the photos spread on the autopsy table. “In fact, I have seen this before, in my college years. There was a series of ritual killings in a neighbouring village—”

“Today, Ducky.”

Kate stifles an inappropriate giggle as Ducky shoots an annoyed glance at their boss. “I can assure you, this is relevant. See here. Caitlin, you too.” He jabs at several of the photos. Kate moves forward, examining the point at the end of his finger. The corpse of the woman in the photo is emaciated, thin skin stretched over a frame of bones. Ducky taps his finger on the wrist of the woman, drawing attention to the thick, welting burns marring the skin there. “On her ankles as well, and the same with the man.”

“Iron burns,” Gibbs notes. “They were bound and starved.”

“Indeed. Silver to harm, iron to bind, holly to repel. The trio of magical counteraction. It’s ritualistic, Jethro, a cleansing.”

Kate shudders. “They’re cleaning house. I bet if we look into these two, they’d be outcasts as well. Sympathizers with the Magical Equality Cause.”

“Why DiNozzo? Why now?” Gibbs asks her. She can feel his eyes on her and knows this is a test.

“They weren’t after Tony,” she answers slowly, thoughtfully. “They wouldn’t want the publicity that comes with a federal agent being abducted.” It’s a quick process to leap from point A to B, and she groans. Of course _Tony_ would end up abducted because of his shitty luck. “They were after _Wiggins—_ Tony just happened to be there.”

The phone set into the wall buzzes, Abby’s face appearing on the screen. “I have the results from the samples,” she calls, bobbing in and out of view as she moves about with restless energy. “There’s high quantities of ammonium, phosphorus, and nitrate, not to mention trihalomethanes. It’s grey water, Gibbs. Sewerage water. They’re keeping them in the sewer system.”

It only takes a moment to process that, Kate already inching towards the exit. “There’s eighteen-hundred miles of sewer systems in DC alone,” Ducky says, looking from Gibbs to Abby. “A girl went missing down there once and three police officers became lost searching for her. A veritable labyrinth, and Anthony could be anywhere within in.”

“Call Fornell,” Gibbs commands, moving quickly towards the exit and overtaking Kate. “Get McGee to find the closest entrance to the sewer system from where DiNozzo went missing. We’re going hunting.”

 

* * *

 

Kate stands by the entrance of the sewer system, surrounded by milling wolves snuffing at the air. Two human agents stand by the entrance clipping GPS trackers holding FBI credentials onto each wolf’s collar, a precaution against becoming lost in the maze of tunnels.

“Think they’ll find him?” McGee asks her, eyeing a brindle-coated wolf who, ten minutes ago, had been a normal-looking female agent with coffee stains on her blouse.

Kate looks up at two wolves standing still, waiting for the pack to organize, their matching silver coats gleaming in the dawn light. “I wouldn’t bet against Gibbs and Fornell if you paid me to.  They’ll find him.”

She’s sure they will.

The pack moves, splitting in two to take both directions of the sewer system. Kate and McGee find themselves jogging after Gibbs and Fornell, the former with his nose to the damp cement. The smell of the greywater is overpowering, even for the two agents without canine senses, and she wonders how the wolves are faring with picking up any scent of the missing men. Sharp yelps echo down the tunnel towards them. The two grey wolves in the lead pick up the pace, bounding down the path to the sounds of distress. Kate puts her hand on her gun as they jog after them. The brindle woman from earlier and her tan-coated partner tumble out of an adjourning path, front paws rubbing frantically over their muzzles.

“Don’t go in there, Boss,” McGee warns, his own nose wrinkling as the bitter scent burning the wolves reaches them. “It’s been laced with methanethiol to stop scent teams.” Kate’s eyes water in sympathy as the two wolves who copped the brunt whine miserably. Gibbs raises his head and makes a soft barking noise in his throat, looking behind Kate.

“They’ll need to have medical treatment as soon as possible,” says a soft voice from where Gibbs is looking. “There’s a first aid team outside. Timothy, please escort them.”

Kate turns. “Ducky? What on earth are you doing here?”

“These sewers are full of two things, Caitlin. Rats and water.” Ducky moves forward, frowning at the filthy water trickling sluggishly past them and tapping his shoe on the surface of the stream. “Seeing as I am elementally inclined towards the latter, it would be remiss of me if I didn’t use my expertise in helping locate our young Anthony.”

Kate watches the way the water changes its flow around Ducky’s foot, curling around his shoe as though welcoming him home, and hears Gibbs huff a response behind her.

“What exactly are you?” she asks Ducky with a smile as he chuckles.

Instead of answering, he steps fully onto the stream, form flickering for a second before the water surges around him and hides him under its murky depths. A familiar laugh and the subtle sound of bells echoes around them, along with his voice: “Well now, my dear. That would be telling.”

Gibbs steps up behind her in his human form, the heavy collar hanging loose around his slimmer human throat and bumping against his chest. She stares at it, for a moment distracted as to why the magic that drives his shapeshifting doesn’t change that along with everything else he’s holding. “Come on, Kate. Let’s go get DiNozzo.”

“How?”

“Follow the bells.”

They do, and they find them.

 

* * *

 

DiNozzo perches on the edge of the autopsy table, letting Ducky look him over. Kate stands to one side, watching Wiggins towelling his hair dry. Clothed in a spare NCIS tracksuit and freshly showered, even with the burns on his arms, it’s the cleanest she’s ever seen him.

“You’ll need to keep these burns clean, use this on it twice a day,” Ducky tells him sternly handing him a tub of ointment, before turning to DiNozzo and handing him the same. “Both of you.”

“He’ll do it, or he’ll answer to me,” Gibbs growls from the sidelines.

Tony looks up with his trademark grin. “Oh, admit it, you were worried about me. You don’t have to say anything. I know.” He pauses, looking from Gibbs to Kate with a concerned expression. “Okay, I want you to say it. You care, right?”

Kate walks up to him, tousling his damp hair. “Tony, as far as I’m concerned, you’re irreplaceable.”

Maybe one day she’ll tell him about the GPS tracker she got McGee to nab from one of the FBI wolves and hide in Tony’s bag.

But, if it means they never lose him again, maybe not.


	7. Kate and the Gremlin

Tony lolls his head back against the head of the chair and moans loudly.

Kate ignores him.

There’s a muffled thump and, when she peeks, he’s dropped his head onto the desk and is watching her out of the corner of one eye. As soon as he notices she’s watching, he makes a pitiful noise.

She looks back down at her report, determined to ignore him.

A few minutes later, breath on the back of her neck alerts her to his sudden proximity, almost slamming her skull into his nose as she launches upright in shock. “Damnit, Tony! Wear a bell!”

The miserable expression he’s wearing tells a story, and it’s an annoyingly woeful one. “Kate, what happened to you to make you so cold?” he whines, drooping onto the divide behind her desk and covering his face with one arm. “Me, your faithful partner, suffering. I’m _suffering,_ Kate, and you have no pity. Suffering like Ol’ Yella.”

“Ol’ Yella got shot,” Gibbs growls as he strides past, seemingly materializing from thin air as usual. “You need shooting?”

There’s another man who needs a set of bells, Kate thinks, watching him go. Maybe she can strike a deal with Ducky…

“Understood Boss,” DiNozzo says, standing abruptly to attention. “Shooting is unnecessary.”

Kate watches Gibbs as he strides to his desk, shuffling busily through his drawers. “A case?”

“Nope,” he replies, verbose as always. “Paperwork.”

Tony thumps his head back onto his desk, muttering, “The suffering increases,” to the scuffed wood. He’s flung one arm out across the desk dramatically and Kate leans back in her chair, observing the way the sleeve of Tony’s designer suit has ridden up his arm and exposed the burns that are only just beginning to scab and heal.

Gibbs drops a file on her desk, blocking her view. “Ducky wants this,” he says, before striding off. An arm snakes over, pulling the file out from under her, Tony having snuck up to her again now that the coast is clear.

“Oooh,” Tony croons. “Paperwork for the new autopsy slave temping for Gerald.”

“Feeling better now, are you?” Kate asks him. She leans back and looks him up and down.

“Kate, Kate, Kate,” he chuckles. “Never underestimate the medicinal power of having a new probie to haze.”

“He’s an autopsy tech,” she corrects him, frowning with concern as he spins on his heel and strides towards the elevator. “Not a probie. Where are you going?”

Tony grins back at her and breaks into a jog. She cusses under her breath, taking off after him. “Tony! Don’t you dare!”

But since when has he ever listened to her?

It’s a race to the door to autopsy and they make it at the same time, bursting through the entrance in a flurry of shoving and pushing. “Tony, give me that, ugh,” she snaps, copping a hand to her face that pushes her away from the file as he tries to duck out from under her arm. “Geddof, give it. _Give._ It!”

“Um, can I help you?” asks a flustered voice behind them. Kate trips over Tony’s outstretched foot and almost sprawls onto the floor, saved by a firm arm snaking around her belly and holding her steady. She looks up, panting, into wide green-grey eyes magnified by smeary glasses.

She really doesn’t have to look up far to meet those eyes. Even hanging barely a foot from the ground off of Tony’s arm, she’s almost at eye level with the new guy. He’s tiny and spindly, with greyish skin and inhuman eyes, wide, bat-ears almost obscured by a mop of wild, ratty curls. The lab-coat he’s wearing is pinned up around his knobbly legs, stuck into place by a complicated arrangement of clothes pins.

“New guy!” Tony crows, face lighting up as though it’s Christmas. “We were just fighting over who drew the _short_ straw to bring your paperwork down. It was no _small_ order, you know.”

“Stop,” Kate hisses at him, standing upright and brushing his arm off her, feeling the warm line across her stomach where he’d held her tingle slightly as his arm slides away. “Hello, Caitlin Todd. Kate to you guys. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Palmer, James Palmer, but my friends call me Jimmy,” the new guy replies, huge eyes flicking from Kate to Tony warily. “I’m new here, the new guy, but you know that. Because you… you called me the new guy. New here.” He shuffles nervously, pushing glasses up the bridge of his nose with long, narrow fingers and rustling the tightly furled wings on his back gently.

Kate’s stomach sinks. Oh, this guy is _way_ too easy a target for DiNozzo.

“Well, Jimbo!” Tony crows. He walks forward and places one hand on the top of Jimmy’s curly hair, ruffling it in a friendly manner. “It’s a _tall_ order to replace Gerald, he was certainly _larger_ than life. But, with my help, we can reach those _high_ expectations. In fact, I think there’s a _shortage_ —”

“That’s enough now, Anthony,” Ducky instructs, stepping out of his office. “As hilarious as your wealth of stature jokes may prove to be, Mr. Palmer here has work to do. Something which I’m sure you have plenty of yourself.”

Kate allows herself to be shooed out of autopsy along with the gloating Tony. “It was nice to meet you, Jimmy!” she calls back over Ducky’s shoulder as he firmly pushes them into the elevator. Her last glimpse of Palmer is him awkwardly raising his hand in farewell as the elevator doors close. As soon as they’re alone, she faces Tony and groans inwardly at the blissful expression on his face.

“He’s a gremlin,” Tony moans with a gross kind of rapture. “He’s a _literal_ autopsy gremlin. Pointy ears, spindly fingers, wings, the lot. Oh, it’s _Christmas,_ Kate. I have _so_ many ideas.”

Kate realises something and starts laughing. Tony blinks at her, startled. “Oh my god,” she manages, thinking of their witch. “Abby is going to freak out!”

 

* * *

 

Abby freaks out.

“I told him not to come in here, Gibbs!” she’s shouting. “He’s crossed the line this time! Look, what is that, that there? Tell me what that is.”

Gibbs turns, examining the spot on the floor that Abby is pointing to and answering with a curt, “That’s a line.”

Abby throws her arms in the air. “It’s more than a line!” she hollers. “It’s a ‘No-Go-Jimmy’ line, and he _crossed_ it!” Kate can feel her mouth hanging open, the sight of Abby in a full-on witch-meltdown a rare and enchanting spectacle. Gibbs looks at the line again, then back at Abby, one eyebrow raised. “That’s right, Gibbs!” Abby responds to his expression, hands now on hips. “How can I be expected to work under these conditions?”

“What is actually wrong?” Kate asks hesitantly, trying to defuse the situation since their boss seems content to stand there twitching his eyebrows in lieu of speaking.

Abby turns to face her with the full might of her forceful personality. Kate feels herself shrinking back nervously. “He killed Major Mass-Spec, Kate!” she howls, and are those… real tears? “He murdered my baby!”

Gibbs walks over to the silent machine, tapping the top. “How?”

Abby sniffles sadly. “He brushed against it and it just _stopped_. There’s a ‘No-Go-Jimmy’ line for a reason Gibbs, he needs to respect that! Gremlins break things—it’s what they _do_. They’re poison to technology!”

Gibbs smacks his palm down hard on the top of the machine, much to Abby’s consternation. Kate flinches as she shouts, charging over to put herself between Gibbs and her ‘baby’.

But the silent machine chokes out a long whine of whirring, before humming smoothly to life.

Abby stares at it. “Wow, Gibbs. Guess you really do have magic hands.” Their boss chuckles, patting her on the arm and walking out without another word. “I’m still really mad about the line!” Abby shouts after him. “Really mad!”

“I’ll talk to Palmer,” Gibbs calls back before the elevator dings.

“Bert’s looking lively,” Kate offers, as Abby stares in bewilderment at her mass-spectrometer. The stuffed hippo stares back at her from Abby’s desk, one ear charred.

“I don’t understand,” Abby says, mouth twisting in confusion. “He’s supposed to be a one-woman machine. Yet, Gibbs just made him purr like a kitten? My one-woman machine is actually a bi-person machine. Why didn’t he tell me sooner? He should know I’ll always be proud of him.”

Kate abruptly decides that she’s had enough Abby for one day, and heads for the elevator. Maybe Tony’s finally finished googling short jokes for Palmer and they can get lunch.

 

* * *

 

Tony slings his arm around her, pulling her close and breathing beery breath into her face. “Kate, Kate, wonderful Kate, have I told you how great…” he slurs before trailing off and hiccupping.

Kate tries to wriggle out from his grip unsuccessfully, fighting the drunken urge to giggle. “Thanks Tony,” she says, feeling a warm bubble of happiness in her chest. Or possibly that’s the incredible amount of alcohol she’s had foisted on her tonight by her co-workers. Turns out Abby can quite easily drink them all under the table, even the _vampire._ Who, Kate has discovered tonight, _can_ get drunk, contrary to popular belief.

He places a finger carefully on her mouth, almost going cross-eyed with the focus it takes to not miss and poke her in the eye. “Shhhh, sh sh sh. Not done. _Nahwt_ done… I want you to know, that out of everyone at NC-CIS, including McGoober, you have the _greatest_ ass.” To punctuate this sentence, he tries to point to her rump, missing and tipping back a little bit.

Kate stares at him, face still, until Abby flings herself out of nowhere and cuts off any retort she’d planned and pummelling Tony with half-hearted punches as the vampire tries to hold her back. “Toooooony, what about my butt?” she shrieks. “And Gibbs’ butt! Gibbs has a great butt!”

It’s the wisest choice to walk away and have nothing to do with the steadily worsening argument about the quality of NCIS posteriors, so Kate turns the other way to face Palmer and a teary McGee. “Is McGee crying?” she asks Palmer, wiping the condensation from her glass onto her jeans.

Palmer twitches his ears and looks up at her with an expression that can only be described as pleading. “Help me, Kate. I don’t know what’s happening, I was just talking about this story Ducky was telling me about when he was a young man and—”

“Never mind, Jimmy, I’m pretty sure I know why he’s crying,” she cuts him off, patting him on the head and standing to walk away. Wobble away. Just, away.

McGee leans back as she passes behind him, laying his head against his arm. “Kate you’re wonderful.” He’s beaming, smiling wetly up at her. “You’re wonderful, and Abby is wonderful, and Gibbs is wonderful, and Tony is…” He stops, face scrunching up with the difficulty of his thoughts.

Oh, he’s _that_ kind of drunk, Kate thinks, watching as he suddenly begins to tear up again, whispering, “wonderful,” to himself. Well, at least he isn’t complimenting her assets. She extracts herself from him, carefully draping him over Palmer, who almost falls off the stool he’s sitting on under the weight, having to fling his wings out to try and balance and almost sweeping drinks off the barmaid’s tray. Kate decides to make herself scarce as Palmer stutters out an apology.

Gibbs is carefully lining up a shot at the pool tables with Ducky when she wanders over there, listening to Ducky chatter on about a murder case he’d once assisted on with the investigation, where a man had been bludgeoned with a pool cue and coated in blue chalk.

“Problem, Kate?” Gibbs asks her mildly, standing and tilting his head at her the same way he had the day she’d met him at Air Force One. Maybe it’s the alcohol that gives her the guts to do it, or maybe it’s the warm, happy feeling that’s spread throughout her entire body as she looks at her boss, the man who’d given her the opportunity to join this crazy, wonderful, weird-ass family.

“Thank you,” she murmurs into his chest, finding herself in a sudden wobbly hug that’s she’s pretty sure she’d initiated without conscious thought. He wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. His jacket smells of wood and a slight musky scent, and she thinks that she’s never quite been as happy as in this moment.


	8. Kate and the Spy

They’re hiding from Gibbs in autopsy. Kate picks at her salad, wondering if it’s entirely normal that she feels fine about eating in a morgue. The soft sound of water echoes throughout the room as Palmer busily scrubs at some pipettes, humming to himself.

Gibbs’ obsession with the man named ‘Ari’, the one who’d held them captive in autopsy, is reaching breaking point.

“Jethro was like this just before his last divorce,” Ducky says absently, attention focused on his paperwork. He seems to have taken the sudden invasion of his lab in stride, only pausing to ensure that Palmer is well out of reach of Tony.

“We can’t divorce him, Duck,” she points out, smiling despite Tony chewing his protein bar noisily in her ear.

Ducky replies, “You wouldn’t want to, my dear, no matter how gruff he becomes.”

“At least he’s taking it out on McGeeky instead of us,” Tony mumbles around his food, spraying her with crumbs. For a heartbeat, she considers shoving him from the autopsy table, but resists. Thankfully.

“Must you talk with your mouth full?” she complains at him, looking down in disgust at the chunks of bar that had landed on her salad.

“Oops, sorry Kate,” Tony says, swallowing. “Tell you what, come with me and I’ll buy you lunch.”

 “What’s in it for you?” She’s suspicious, justifiably.

Tony looks hurt. “I’m doing it out of the kindness of my incredibly kind heart. Back me up, Duck—I’m the kindest, most gentlest, sweetest—”

Ducky puts his pen down with a loud _thunk_ of hand on desk, patience wearing thin. “Perhaps the two of you can be kind elsewhere and not in my morgue?” he says in a tone that’s both gentle and not a suggestion. “You are a distraction to Mr. Palmer.”

“Hmm?” says Palmer, popping his earbud out and looking around for whoever had said his name.

Recognising when they’re unwanted, Kate dumps the salad and follows Tony out, smirking. Tony’s trying to hide something; she’s going to find out what.

 

* * *

 

She doesn’t have to wait long. It’s just when she’s about to bite into her lunch when Tony jumps up, brushing his clothes down frantically. “It’s her!” he exclaims, pulling the most ridiculous face she’s ever seen, like a love-struck fifth-grader. “The love of my life! Bye, Kate, enjoy lunch!” And he’s gone, bolting through traffic after a redheaded woman who winks at him before jogging away. Kate blinks stupidly after him, looking down at her uneaten lunch. He hadn’t paid, for hers _or_ his, of all the stupid, immature…

The hand that falls on the back of her neck is warm and dry and smells of the desert. She immediately goes for her gun.

The gun she’s not wearing.

Fuck.

“Not a good idea, Caitlin,” Ari says with a low laugh and that same honeyed voice. “Did you miss me?”

He puts her in a car alone with one of his lackeys and she considers her options. It’s a fair guess that the man sitting in the driver’s seat is probably more than he seems, so she doesn’t like her chances of escaping from him before he does something nasty in return. Her cell rings and her hand twitches toward it. The driver bares his teeth at her, a warning, holding one hand out expectantly. What can she do? She simply gives it to him, watching him glance quickly at the screen before tossing it onto the floor and out of reach. “Who is Gibbs?” he asks, his accent thick, some variant of Middle-Eastern she can’t localise further.

In response to her glare and silence, he strikes her. Fingernails rake across the skin of her face. There’s a warm trickle working down her jawline. He’s cut her.

“Who is Gibbs?” he asks again. Threatening.

“My boyfriend,” she lies, before remembering rule seven: always be specific when lying. “He always calls me when he leaves the office.”

“Where does he work?” the man questions. His eyes narrow. Kate looks into those eyes and tries to swallow around a nervous lump in her throat, remembering the sharp-fanged leopard Ari had become.

Schooling her expression into a smirk is easy, even as her blood thunders through her veins. “Iraq.”

He growls for real this time and his hand strikes out again. It doesn’t knock her out, but it does leave her dazed enough that it’s easier to curl down and be silent.

She’s simply waiting for what’s to come.

 

* * *

 

She’s sitting across from Ari and the world is blurry at the edges. Her head thumps in time with her heartbeat. She swallows back nausea and glares at her captor. “You told me I could call Gibbs.” The tone she uses is whinier than expected, and she blames what she suspects is a concussion.

Ari blinks slowly at her, looking for all the world like the cat he can become. To his credit, he’d been furious at the beating she’d received, berating the driver and fetching her ice to hold to her split lip. “Of course. On one condition.”

She’s sour with her response, testing him. “Surprise, surprise. And what am I to say?”

“You became quite ill after lunch. You went to emergency, where it was diagnosed as food poisoning. They pumped out your stomach, gave you an IV, and sent you home. You’ll be fine tomorrow. You just need some sleep.” He states this all in a monotone, eyes never leaving hers.

“And if I don’t?” she asks, because she’ll be damned if she’s going to play by his rules again.

“Then Marta will be entertaining Agent DiNozzo tonight,” he replies, gesturing behind her.

Kate turns her head, feels her gut twist with a biting panic she doesn’t show. The woman from lunch stands behind her, smiling sharply. “Even a vampire will die if I place a bullet in the back of his head while I run my fingers through his hair,” she says quietly, and Kate doesn’t think that it’s a bluff. She can’t move for a moment, can’t think. The mental image is vivid. Tony with his brains splattered over his bed. Tony still and cold, forever silent. Blood on her hands.

She thinks of burying him and feels nothing.

She thinks of sitting across from an empty desk and vomits every last bit of the excellent tuna salad he’d brought her for lunch. If asked later, she’ll blame the concussion.

On the phone, she doesn’t have to fake being sick for Gibbs; her wavering voice and the throbbing behind her eyes does it for her. “Tony’s right, Boss. Never eat oysters in a month without an R. I’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

She hangs up and wonders if she’s going to get that tomorrow.

 

* * *

 

And, in the end, it’s the worst outcome possible

Ari kills the red-headed woman and hands her a file, confirming the story he’d kidnapped her to tell. She tries to hide the shaking in her hands as she takes it. “Plans for a biological attack on the magical community,” he tells her. She opens the folder, focusing carefully on the blurry words. “They are firmly of the belief that weakening human relations with the magical beings weakens America as a whole.”

“Why should I believe you?”

She’s worried about the answer he’s going to give, because it’s not going to be one Gibbs is going to like. If this is what she thinks it is, it means Ari’s on their side—it means Gibbs can’t hunt him.

She doesn’t think that Gibbs will be stopped so easily.

But he says it. “Because I would not lie to you. I am Mossad. I just follow orders, the same as you.”

“Why did you kidnap me?” she questions him, knowing that she’s not in the right frame of mind to play verbal chess with a foreign operative.

He smiles and looks at her with those green eyes. “Perhaps I just wanted to see you again, Caitlin.”

 

* * *

 

Gibbs refuses to let her go home after Ducky diagnoses a concussion, which is how she ends up sitting on Gibbs’ ratty couch drinking a soda and watching him grill a steak over an open flame. He’s barely spoken a word to her since they’d found her sitting by the woman’s body, alone. Without Ari. She can tell he’s angry, can hazard a guess why.

“Ari said that if I warned you in any way, Marta would kill Tony,” she whispers under her breath, knowing he can hear her. “He was helping us, in his strange, irritating way.”

Gibbs pulls the steak off the grill, slaps it onto a plate, and walks over to her, wiping his hands on his pants. She looks up into his face, wondering if this is the moment she loses her job, or, worse, his respect.

“You need to trust us to do our jobs,” he says firmly. “To do _my_ job.”

“I do, but—”

He cuts her off, brushing his hand against the back of her head in a parody of a Tony-head slap. Not ballsy enough for the real thing, apparently, or maybe just careful of her diagnosed head injury. “And my job is to keep my team safe. _My_ job. Not yours. It happens again, you warn me and I come get you— _nothing_ will stop me from getting to you. Understand?”

“Understood, Gibbs.”

She does. He’ll keep them safe.


	9. Kate and the Magus

“Anyone, and I mean _anyone,_ know when the air conditioners are getting fixed?” Tony is standing on his desk, glaring around at the personnel scattered around the bullpen. “Come on! Who invented windows that don’t open? Oh, don’t glare at me, Balboa, we don’t all have a wind mage on our team acting as our own personal air coolers!”

Kate stands under him, staring up and wondering if she’s ever before met people quite this strange. “What are you doing, DiNozzo?”

He transfers his glare down to her. “It’s hot as hell in here, Kate. And since Gibbs decided to hire a human instead of someone even remotely magical…”

Kate snorts and drops her bag, going to sit down and almost sprawling over McGee, who is, for some reason, tucked under her desk. Jumping almost a foot, she shrieks, “McGee! You have two minutes to tell me what you’re doing under there or else, magic or no magic, I swear I’ll—”

McGee shoots up, belting his head on the desk on his way out, face flushing bright red. “Agent Todd! I’m… I’m upgrading the computer network and, uh…”

Kate scowls deeper at him. “Time’s up,” she growls, very Gibbslike in this moment, grabbing McGee’s ear and dragging him up.

“No, I wasn’t looking up your skirt. I swear. Ow! Ow! Ow!” He wriggles in her grip, looking at her plaintively. She hears DiNozzo hop down from his desk with a thump, sniggering. “I wasn’t looking—I wasn’t—ow!”

“Boss!” Tony announces behind them. “Whatever you think you’re looking at, it’s exactly what you’re looking at. And, frankly, it’s a little disturbing. Why’s the Norfolk probie here looking up Kate’s bits?” Kate turns to face them, releasing McGee, who rubs his ear sheepishly.

“There a reason you’re under Agent Todd’s desk, McGee?” Gibbs asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

McGee stammers, helplessly, and it’s like he never left them to begin with. “Uh… the contractors, they won’t wire the network until the air conditioning’s fixed. It’s a union thing so…”

“Yeah, it’s hot as balls in here. I don’t blame them.” DiNozzo fans his face, huffing. “You know, we could trade Kate for the wind mage from Balboa’s team, throw in McGeek as extra incentive.”

“Vampires don’t overheat, DiNozzo,” Gibbs says, still watching McGee carefully. Kate feels a small spark of concern light up in her belly at that look. “And we need McGee.”

“Well geez, thanks, Gibbs,” Kate says. It’s her turn to huff as Tony waggles his tongue at her. Ass. “Good to be appreciated.”

“Is there a problem, Boss?” McGee asks nervously, shuffling his feet.

“We’ve been requested. Kidnapping. Specifically asked for you, Tim.”

“Why do they want McSqueaky? He’s grass green.” DiNozzo looks slightly put out by the request.

Gibbs pulls his gun out of his desk, slamming the drawer shut. “Girl missing is a golem. Kate, you and Tim, go check out the house. Now.”

Kate sees McGee’s face pale and groans inwardly. She can already tell this is going to be a bad one.

 

* * *

 

“You think she’s going to be okay?” Kate asks, looking down at the photo of the missing child they’ve been given as they walk up the path to her front door. “She’s beautiful.”

McGee doesn’t meet her eyes. “She is beautiful.” She notes how he avoids her question and grips the photo tightly. The girl looks up at her, smiling happily in her school uniform. The ribbons tying her blonde hair back in a neat ponytail are blue with ducks, carefully fashioned into a bow. They remind her of the ribbons her own mom used to tie their hair back with.

“She’s loved,” she says gently, eyeing the younger agent for a reaction. “Look at how carefully her hair is done. My mom used to brush mine and my sister’s hair for hours…” She trails off, seeing a dark light flicker deep within McGee’s eyes.

He presses the doorbell sharply, flipping a file open on one hand. “Says here she was adopted when she was a baby after being found abandoned,” he says, something savage and angry in his otherwise steady voice. “She’s blind since creation, eleven years of age. Does well at school, plays the piano, loves to sing. There’s no one home.”

Kate tilts her head in what she knows is a Gibbs-like fashion. It’s rubbing off on her. “Are you okay?”

McGee flashes her a strange look. “Aside from the fact there’s no one home and we need to get in to help find this girl?” His voice gets louder as he speaks, cracking at the end.

“Sandy,” Kate states.

“What?”

She stares him dead in the eyes, not backing down. “Her name is Sandy. Are you okay?”

He looks at the photo in her hand, mouth twisting. “I know her name. It’s Sandy, she’s eleven years old, and she was thrown in the trash like a broken TV when she was a baby because whoever made her, made her blind. And no one will buy a blind golem.”

Kate stares at him, breathless. His face is raw with pain, old memories still stinging. “Tim…”

It’s not enough. Her wordless sympathy, her shocked pity, none of it is useful to him. He’s shaking his head at her, examining the door and surrounds. “I don’t want to talk. I just want to find her, before someone who can’t see beyond the fact that she was made and not born does.”

Kate takes a breath, pushing her concern aside. “Window is open on the top floor. Boost me?”

 

* * *

 

“Where’s McGee?” Tony murmurs to her, sidling up as they watch Gibbs speak to the girl’s parents. The father’s head hangs low, beaten. The mother stares at Gibbs with a lost, hopeful expression, eyes red-rimmed with tears. Human, both of them. Humans who had taken in a lost girl and raised her as their own.

“Helping Abby try and hack into the father’s computer,” Kate replies. “Do you think he’s okay?”

They both know who she’s referring to.

Tony shrugs. “He’ll handle it. Gibbs wouldn’t have let him in if he didn’t think he could cope—” Whatever Tony is about to say is cut off by the father’s cell ringing frantically on the table. His head shoots up, eyes glazing as he stares at the mobile.

“Put it on speaker,” Gibbs barks, waving them over. “DiNozzo, get your ass down to the lab, get them tracing this.” Tony vanishes. “Kate, here.” He thrusts a notepad at her. She nods, ready.

The phone is answered.

“Hello?” the father asks, his voice trembling.

The voice that responds is computerized. Robotic. It says: “Call the feds off or you’ll never see the child again. We want ten thousand, wired to us, or she will die.”

The father looks up at Kate, eyes panicked. She shakes her head at him, begging him not to draw attention to them. “I want you to release her immediately,” he manages to fumble out, still staring at Kate. “I can give you half the money now, the rest when she’s home safe.”

“Not going to happen.”

Kate can see him losing control. The mother’s eyes well up with silent tears. “Why?” he cries. “Because she’s already dead? You listen to me, you let her go right now or it’s over!”

“Such a clever creature, isn’t she?” the voice monotones. “Plays the piano. Gifted, I hear. You don’t need eyes to play the piano… but you sure as hell need ears!”

A scream echoes out of the phone’s handset, the parents’ faces draining of colour.

“Sandy!” gasps her mother, standing and looking frantically from Kate to Gibbs for help.

“Gibbs!” Kate says. He twitches slightly towards her, gaze locked on the phone. They’re losing control of the call.

The voice continues: “One little tap. Monaural. Then the other ear, pop! Total silence and darkness forever. Final offer. Don’t risk it.”

The line goes dead, the father’s mouth opening and closing uselessly.

“Gibbs!” Kate repeats, hand shaking her pen against the page.

Gibbs finally turns to her, eyes wolfish. “Go see if McGee traced the call. Now! We’re running out of time.”

 

* * *

 

McGee is playing and replaying the call when they get down to the lab, face still. _“Total silence and darkness forever,”_ the voice intones once more as he begins it again.

Abby is pacing, biting her lip. She spins to face Kate as they walk in, holding a bright pink backpack. “Kate! I’ve tried everything! Tracking spells, health charms, tracing the call, voice recognition. We even tried to pull background noise, we have nothing!”

The voice is drilling into Kate’s head, echoing endlessly. _“Such a clever creature, isn’t she?”_

McGee hits the repeat button.

_“Final offer.”_ Tap.

_“Let her go right now or it’s over!”_ Tap.

_“Darkness forever.”_ Tap.

“Wait,” she says, darting forward and knocking McGee’s hand away. “Once more, play it again. The father’s lines.” McGee frowns at her, and the call begins to replay again without him even looking at the screen.

_“Hello? I want you to release her immediately. I can give you half the money now, the rest when she’s home safe. Why? Because she’s already dead? You listen to me, you let her go right now or it’s over!”_

_“Sandy!”_ the mother’s voice cuts in, anguished.

“He never says her name,” Kate states, mind racing. “Not once does he call her Sandy or refer to her as his daughter. Not once.”

Abby’s eyes are wide. “What does that mean, Kate? You don’t think… not her _dad_ …”

McGee comes to life next to her, fingers frantically flashing over the keys. “Call Gibbs,” he instructs sharply. Kate stares at him, having never heard such an authoritative tone from him before. “I was wrong.”

“When were you wrong?” Abby queries, looking from the computer to McGee. “Timmy?”

McGee looks almost as fierce as Gibbs on a rampage. “I said that no one would buy a blind golem. Guess they will if she’s pretty enough. He sold her, Kate. That man, her father, sold her and organized the call to throw us off his trail!”

 

* * *

 

Kate and Tony sit in the bullpen, silently waiting for Gibbs to appear. They’ve hit dead ends at every turn, and things are starting to look bleak.

“When I’m a mother, I’m never letting my kids out of my sight,” Kate tells him, restlessly shredding a piece of paper.

Tony looks up at her with a wide grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, how do you plan on doing that?”

“GPS locator strapped to the ankle. Audio and video surveillance built into their clothes.”

He smirks again. “No, I meant the part about becoming a mother.”

She wonders if it’s possible to glare at someone hard enough to bore a hole into their head. She doubts it, but tries anyway.

“Excuse me?” says a grating voice behind them. Kate turns and finds a tall man wearing military robes standing to attention by the entrance to the bullpen. “I’m looking for Special Agent Timothy McGee?”

Kate stands to shake his hand, but she’s beaten by DiNozzo. “I’m very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo,” he says excitedly, adding as an afterthought, “this is Agent Todd.” Kate stands, smiling thinly until she gets the stranger’s measure. “Agent McGee is working on a case at the moment. Is there something we can do to help you?”

The mage peers over a pair of narrow-rimmed glasses at DiNozzo, moustache twitching. Kate almost smiles at the way the man towers over him. “No, no… no. I only require Timothy. He requested my assistance with a kidnapping.”

“You’re a Magus?” Kate asks, stepping past DiNozzo to shake the man’s hand. A military mage? Why would McGee need a military mage?

“Admiral Magus, actually,” the man corrects. “If we are to be proper about things.”

She amends her thought: why would McGee need an _Admiral_ Magus?

“Dad!” comes a startled voice. Tony turns to look at McGee on the stairs, blanches, and does a double take between the Admiral Magus and the young agent. “I didn’t expect you so soon!”

“Dad?” Tony mouths at her, widening his eyes comically. She shrugs back, just as lost as he is.

“Thom,” the man says, nodding at the agent with his expression unchanged. “Take me to your superior. Of course, I hurried. If you are correct, the child is quickly running out of time.”

“Thom?” Tony mouths again, bouncing on his heels gleefully.

“Of course,” McGee repeats. “I’ll take you to Gibbs. Agent Gibbs. Special Agent… this way.”

Tony sidles over to her as the two men climb the staircase without looking back at them. “Our little probie is all grown up and keeping secrets from us, Kate.”

Kate thinks of the darkness in McGee’s eyes as he talks about the missing child. “He’s welcome to them,” she says quietly, seeing something haunted cross Tony’s expression. “Some things are better off unknown.”

 

* * *

 

The Admiral Magus smooths the map on the table of the conference room, narrow finger tracing the surface. “If she truly has been sold on the black market, there is a few places she may be. Fortunately, if the people who have her regularly move products such as her, they are unlikely to be too careful in their operation. Not many people bother with the freedom of clay-men.”

“Products such as her?” Gibbs repeats with a growl in his voice.

The Magus looks up, eyeing him with a cool gaze. “My apologies. I worked with the original task force assigned during the Emancipation of Artificially Constructed Sentience. It led to a level of… detachment.”

Kate is disgusted. “You raised a golem child,” she snaps. “What level of detachment does that allow?” She’s glad that McGee is back down in Abby’s lab.

“I raised two golems, actually,” the Magus tells her. “Your point is irrelevant, Agent Todd. My son has never been in the position of losing his freedom. And with my craftsmanship, he never will be. I was never _sloppy_.”

Gibbs slams his hand on the table. “Sloppy. You call a missing child _sloppy?_ Bah, we’re wasting time!”

The Magus sneers. “Since creating an artificial—since raising golems to life was outlawed, the price of young golems with malleable minds has skyrocketed. Those with the ability to do such complex magic are carefully kept under observation. They will not kill the girl. Even flawed, she is highly valuable in today’s market. And removing her free-will sigil will take time.”

“Then, where is she?” Gibbs snarls, and this time they can all hear the wolf.

The Magus traces his finger in several circles on the map, leaving a glowing trail behind it. “These are black spots. Tracing magic will not work there. They’re hot-zones for illegal markets, you’ll find her in one of them.” He taps at two of the dozen or so circles around the DC area map, changing the gold glow to a green. “These zones are most likely, we have reports of similar products being shifted from them in the past.”

Gibbs studies the zones, then turns and strides out without a word. Tony bolts after him, wasting no time with McGee’s father. Kate nods carefully at the cold man. “Thank you for your help, Admiral Magus.”

The first expression she’s seen on his face flickers onto it, his mouth twitching slightly under the grey hair of his moustache. “Of course. Give my regards to Thom. I do hope you retrieve the child. Slavery in these modern times is a barbaric concept.”

Kate hesitates before asking, “Why do you call him Thom?”

The man’s moustache twitches with displeasure. “It was the name I presented him with. He chose to leave it behind, along with his past. Perhaps for the best.” And with that, he’s gone, sweeping out of the room with a rustle of robes, leaving behind a trace of cigar smoke and the vague sense of suppressed power.

 

* * *

 

Sandy is in the furthest pen, chained like an animal. Kate takes one look at the sightless eyes staring up at her filled with fear, and her heart breaks. “Sandy? My name’s Kate. I’m an NCIS agent. You’re safe now.” Around her, there’s the sounds of a dozen children crying, agents trying to soothe them, chains being cut. Kate wants to gather the little girl in her arms and carry her out of this hellhole, unable to easily lift the weight of even a child golem. She has to settle for simply taking her hand and hoping that no-one notices that her eyes are watering.

The atmosphere in the bullpen later that night is tense as every agent who had assisted with rescuing the golem children fills out endless reports on the conditions they’d been found in.

Tony leans over her desk and peers at her report. “Not one of those children was under nine,” he says softly, looking grieved.

“Creating golems was outlawed eight years ago,” she says, crossing out a misspelled word. “That’s why they took them—they’re the last children of their kind. Collector’s items.” They both look up at McGee typing busily at the spare desk. Kate wonders what it’s like to see the end of your species coming. She can’t imagine how that must feel.

McGee stands, grabbing his bag and walking towards them. “Alright, my report’s done so I’ll be heading back to Norfolk.” Kate tries to say something to him, something to soothe the misery in his eyes, and just can’t quite find the words. “I’ll take that as a thank you,” he continues with a frown.

“McGee, where do you think you’re going?” Gibbs walks into the bullpen, voice peeved.

“Uhm… Norfolk?”

“Nope,” Gibbs continues, and throws a NCIS cap at him. “Good news. You’ve been promoted to a full-time agent. You’re _mine_ now.” He nods at their newest agent, and strides towards the stairs without another word.

McGee snaps his mouth shut. “That’s incredible! Wow! Guys, did you hear?” He turns and sees the identical grins on his partner’s face, widening his eyes.

“You know what this means?” Tony says to Kate.

Kate leans forward and slaps McGee’s shoulder. “Oh yes,” she says, and smiles. “You’re all ours now, probie.”


	10. Kate and the Danger

The shadows in her room are fuzzy with the threatening dawn when she opens her eyes, instantly alert. She’s not entirely sure what’s woken her. She lies completely still, breath held tightly, listening.

There.

The scuff of a shoe on carpet.

Kate thinks of her weapon locked safely away on the living room bookcase in a small safe. Her eyes flicker about the room. This wouldn’t happen to Gibbs. She bets he sleeps with his gun under his pillow.

Gibbs in his entirety is a weapon.

She reaches out slowly. Flinches as her covers rustle. Wraps stiff fingers around the cold case of her cell and pulls it carefully towards her. When this is over, she’s really going to rethink her following of rule nine: always carry a knife.

A knife would be goddamn useful right about now.

There’s a noise in the kitchen of her apartment, the sound of a cupboard being opened slowly. She sidles out of her bed, bare feet silent on the rug of her bedroom. Digging her toes into the plush fabric, she bobs up onto the tips of her toes and inches forward cautiously. Hairbrush, ceramic cat, book, glass of water. She grabs the ceramic cat around its narrow neck, hefting it in her free hand, the other gripping her cell.

If the intruder stays in the kitchen, she can sidle past, get to the bookcase. Get her gun…

There’s a muffled footstep in her hallway and she’s out of time, smashing her finger down on her phone’s speed-dial and leaping forward, shoulder braced against the door. The door-handle leaps under her hand, shoving forward into her and then slamming shut as her weight strikes it.

“H’lo?” says a tinny voice through the cell’s speaker, on the floor near her foot as she holds the door against the person trying to enter. “Kate?”

Oh fuck. Wrong speed-dial.

“Tony, call Gibbs!” she shouts, pitching her voice highly—the better for it to carry. The person slamming his shoulder against the bedroom door pauses for a moment, giving her a chance to brace herself better against the surface.

It occurs to her that whoever is on the other side might not be human.

It occurs to her that if they _are_ human, they’ll probably be—

She flings herself to the floor just as the bullet rips through the wood above her head and it splinters violently outward. The sound of the gunshot deafens her. A second bullet follows it as she rolls quickly away from the door, putting her bed between her and the shooter.

Screw her pride, she thinks desperately, and screams as loud as she can. Her ears ring with the reverberation from the shot, her scream painfully muffled. Loud enough, or not really?

She can’t tell.

Her door cracks open, a dark shape storming in. There’s a snap glimpse of a pale face looming overhead before the gun swings up between them and she ducks down. The room lights up with a resounding flash as something crackles dangerously over her head.

Mage, she thinks in a panic, before realizing that her bed is on fire and scampering away from it.

“Kate!” someone exclaims in the sudden rush of her hearing returning, and she almost buries the ceramic cat in his skull as she spins and lobs it in the direction of his head with deadly aim. He ducks it, holding his hands up. The air is thick with the acrid stink of electricity. The light from the fire on her bed illuminates him, blue flannel pyjamas and all. “Woah! It’s me, Jack! From next door, I heard screaming! He’s gone, Kate, he’s gone!”

Kate straightens, on her knees still and panting as the adrenaline fails to fade. The flames on her comforter flicker and die down, thick smoke dissipating through the window her attacker had escaped through. “Jack,” she gasps, pushing a lank of sweaty hair out of her face and choking on the remaining smoke. “Oh, thank _god_.” Suddenly, she’s incredibly thankful that her nana had taught her to always introduce herself to the neighbours.

They both flinch as the front door slams against the wall, and someone shouts into the apartment: “Federal agent, hands in the air!”

Kate staggers up, calling out, “Tony, in here, we’re okay.”

He bursts into the room, eyes wide. “What’s on fire?” he says sharply, gaze freezing on the clear bullet holes in her door.

Jack points to the bed, face sheepish. “Lightning mage. I was aiming at the shooter. I… I’ve never aimed at a human before.”

Tony examines him before disregarding him and turning to Kate. “Where’d he go?”

She points to the open window and he’s out of it in a moment, calling back over his shoulder, “Get your gun!”

She runs for the bookcase, Jack following after, face pale. She can see shock settling in on his face, glazing his eyes. “Are you okay?” she asks him, concerned, loading the gun in one deft movement.

He waves her away, flopping onto the couch and putting his head between his knees. “Christ, that guy was going to _shoot_ you. He was actually going to shoot you. He would have shot you, why was he _shooting_ at you?”

“That’s a good question,” Gibbs states from her doorway, striding in with his gun drawn. He’s wearing slacks and an old NIS hoodie, looking weirdly casual. “DiNozzo?”

“Out the window, bedroom,” she answers shortly. “One shooter, average height, male, Caucasian. Assumed human.”

“Dark hair, closely cropped, blue hooded sweatshirt, dark jeans, watch on right arm,” Jack adds. They both look at him, eyebrows raised. He shrugs. “We get taught to be observant. Unobservant mages make mistakes.”

Gibbs nods, mouth twitching in an almost smirk. “Get your gear, both of you. You’re going to NCIS. Abby will do sketches.” He starts towards the bedroom, stops, and turns back to them with a definite smirk this time. “Might need pants, Kate.”

Kate looks down and groans at what are decidedly not her nicest underwear, on show for everyone to see. Well, shit. Tony is never going to let her live this down.

 

* * *

 

Kate has her head on Abby’s desk, listening to Jack and Abby chatter happily. She has no idea how they’re so chirpy. Six hours of staring at the screen of Abby’s sketching program and her eyes feel like they’re trying to claw themselves out of her head.

“This is fascinating, the parameters of this spell are unique,” Jack murmurs, flicking through the pages of Abby’s notebook and peering in so close his nose almost touches the page. “I’ve never seen charms written in quite this fashion.”

Abby is placing the final touches on her new attempt at bringing Bert to life, carefully balancing the stuffed hippo on a heaped pile of lifesaver candy. “My mother was a spell-muse. My father was an etymologist.” She looks up at Jack and grins. “They compiled their knowledge.”

“What are you trying to do, Abby?” Kate asks tiredly, squinting at the candy.

“Isn’t it obvious?” the witch asks perkily, rearranging the candy around the hippo. “I’m using etymology magic to animate Bert. My mom used to do it for my show and tell. Mrs. Ebbison was particularly pleased by the crying apples I took in in third grade.”

“Crying apples?” Kate asks dully. She wonders if Abby will notice if she falls asleep at the desk.

Jack snorts. “Pineapples. She made pining apples.”

“Exactly! And now, with the power of words, I will finally create the perfect companion!” Abby cackles, placing her hands on the runes circling the candy mountain and tapping out the spell. The bang resounds around the room, startling Kate up and out of her chair, hand on her gun as she vividly remembers the sound of wood splintering. Abby yelps and leaps back, hands held in front of her to try and hold the fountain of heavy, gold coins showering from the table. Bert rolls on the river of gold, farting slightly as he hits the floor and disappears under a pile of coins.

“Oops,” Abby says with wide eyes. “Life-savers. Life _savings._ Sorry, Bert.”

“Lucky you didn’t use a Payday,” Jack responds mildly, nudging coins away with his foot. Kate sees a flicker of movement by the door, looking up to see who it is.

“Don’t look so excited, Tony, it’s Fool’s Gold,” Abby says, cutting off her giggles as she stands up from rescuing Bert. “It’ll vanish in a few hours.”

Kate bolts out of Abby’s office and into the lab, looking for DiNozzo. “Tony! Did you catch him? Where’s Gibbs? Who was it? Is my apartment okay?”

“Can I go home?” Jack adds, looking hopeful. “I have assignments due, I really need to study.” He looks down at the coins and grins at Abby. “Not that this hasn’t been a thoroughly informative experience that I’d love to repeat, barring the man trying to shoot my neighbour.”

Tony runs his hand through his hair, looking ruffled. Kate notes how unkempt his clothes look. She figures he’d pulled on the first ones he’d had at hand in a rush that morning. “Hello. No. Director. No idea. Depends how much you like your décor burnt. And yes, I can take you home, strange man, while we grab clothes for you, Kate.”

“Is Kate going somewhere?” Abby asks, hugging Bert.

Tony grins cheekily. “Yeah. Until we work out whether she was a target or not, she’s coming to my place. We’re having a sleepover!”

 

* * *

 

“I’ll take the fold out couch,” Tony instructs, hastily tidying the magazines beside his bed before she can peer through the bedroom door at them. “You take the bed, otherwise I just know you’ll complain all night.”

“I don’t mind the couch, Tony,” she says, looking around at his spotless apartment. “It’s probably more sanitary. Why do you have a single bed?”

Tony stands upright and gives her a strange look and doesn’t answer. She holds up her hands in surrender and backs out the room, letting him go past her with an armful of blankets from his linen cupboard and pull the couch out, making up a bed for himself neatly and efficiently. After seeing his desk at work, it came as surprise how clean his home was.

She sidles into the small kitchen, pulling open the fridge. “Hey, Tony, do you have anything to drink…” She trails off, staring at the contents of the fridge above a battered box of pizza and two opened bottles of mayo.

“Not unless you take A+,” he replies from next to her, pushing the fridge door shut and smirking at her startled expression. “Or did you forget?”

“I just… I’ve never seen you drink blood before,” she replies. “I just assumed you’re a pizza vampire.”

“That’s racist,” he retorts, filling a cup with water from the tap and pushing it across the counter at her. “Just because I’m Italian. And, no, Kate, office etiquette generally demands that you avoid taking either tuna fish or blood to work for lunch. Tends to make your co-workers uncomfortable.”

She shakes her head at him. “Can I use your bathroom to get changed?”

His smile is cunning, and she groans inwardly. “As long as you plan on wearing the same outfit as last night. Nice panties, Kate. Meow.”

“Shove it, DiNozzo,” she snaps, storming into the bathroom and shutting the door firmly. Perve.

He digs through his movie collection while she washes up, putting on an old James Bond movie and happily ad-libbing the lines as they come. Kate watches until she can feel her eyes gluing themselves shut, then excuses herself to bed. She leaves the bedroom door open, the corner of his fold out couch just visible from where she lies. He sits facing the front door, relaxed but alert, and she has the uncomfortable feeling she’s the only one getting any sleep tonight.

Before she can tell him that it’s unnecessary, she’s asleep.

 

* * *

 

She wakes with his hand over her mouth, light from the muted TV in the living room gleaming bluely off his skin. He drops his hand and passes her gun and cell to her. “Call Gibbs,” he mouths, turning his head away and narrowing his eyes at the bedroom door. She holds her breath for a moment as she unlocks her cell, hearing slight scratching at the doorway, like mice. Lock picks. She wonders if Tony remembered to put the chain on.

Her partner darts to the doorway, leaning out with his gun aimed at the entrance. Kate presses call and holds the phone to her ear. Expectedly, Gibbs picks up almost immediately. “Gibbs. What’s up?”

“Front door,” she whispers. “Unknown number. We’re armed.”

“Hold tight. We’re on our way. Keep me on the line. The units out front?”

“No idea.” She stands, checking the ammo in her weapon with one hand and keeping her back to the wall, sidling around the bed towards her partner. She catches a glimpse of herself, pale and determined in the mirrored door of Tony’s closet. Her eyes meet those of her reflection, outlined starkly against the heavy blackout curtains hanging in front of the bedroom windows. Something bothers her about those curtains.

Gibbs says, “In the car now, Kate. Eight minutes.”

“You shouldn’t talk and drive, Boss,” she murmurs, gaze locked uneasily on her reflection, wondering what had caught her eye.

The curtain twitches again.

She spins, dropping the cell and placing three shots through the curtain and where the chest would be on an average-sized man. The drapes splay outward and a shape bursts out, rising from a crouch and aiming a shotgun at her as the curtains billow from the open window and cut off her view.

Tony hits her from the side and they go down firing, the boom of the shotgun followed by the explosion of Tony’s mirror from behind her, peppering her with broken glass. Tony rolls, places himself in front of her as she scrabbles for her gun. He bares his fangs and fires twice more. By the third time, there’s nothing but ringing in her ears the worrisome notion that she’s going to be deaf by thirty.

Her fourth bullet goes wild as the shotgun fires again and Tony stumbles back into her trying to avoid it.

Her fifth neatly impacts into the left of the man’s forehead, dropping him.

She’s up. Kicking the shotgun away. Checking the dead man’s pulse and bolting for the front door, aiming through the wood where a person would stand to pick the lock. The home phone rings loudly, startling her, and she picks it up on reflex. “Tony!” barks Gibbs’ voice sharply.

“Kate,” she corrects, eyes still locked on the door. She can hear Tony moving around in his room. Hopefully checking the window for a second shooter. “We’re okay.”

“I’m three minutes away. You hurt?” Kate lowers her gun as the door stays resolutely shut, chain in place, and looks down at herself.

Her front is crimson with blood. Nausea hits her. “Shit,” she hisses, pressing the hand holding the gun to her belly and checking for a wound.

“Kate? I asked if you’re hurt.” She hears tires squeal over the phone.

“Not you,” says a quiet voice behind her, and she turns to face her partner. He’s holding one hand to his stomach and the whites of his eyes are pitch-black and inhuman.

Red seeps between his fingers.

“Tony’s hit,” she says blankly. “Tony’s hit bad. Call nine-one-one. I gotta go.” She hangs up the phone and takes a hesitant step towards him. “Is this fatal?”

He blinks slowly at her, swaying slightly. Blood pools quickly at his feet. “Wha’?”

“This, is this fatal?” she repeats slower, taking one more step. “Tony, I don’t know what to do for you. Can bullets kill a vampire?”

He begins to slump and she catches him, staggering under his weight as she lowers him to the ground. Trying to press down on his stomach is harder than she’d thought, unable to find a way to cover every part of the seeping wound with her hands without her palms sinking into him. Tony’s hand comes up, gripping tightly around her wrist as he tries and fails to produce words. The wound is gaping, blown open by the force of the shot, and she can’t look too closely at it without thinking she might throw up.

Gibbs’ voice echoes dully in her mind. _Bullets work on almost anything._

“Oh no,” she tells Tony firmly as he stills under her hands, fingers slackening and falling to his side. “Gibbs is on his way and you sleeping on the job is going to piss him off, Tony.”

He opens his eyes and blinks at her blearily and she does her best Gibbs glare as heavy footsteps pound up the passage towards the apartment. “Hold my hand,” she instructs, taking his and feeling it tighten slightly around her palm. “Don’t you dare go anywhere, DiNozzo.”

“Not goin’ n-ne… where,” he wheezes between clenched lips.

Someone is kicking down the door behind her, but her world has narrowed to this moment. Holding her partner’s hand while his blood soaks her pants, sticking them wetly to her legs.

“Don’t give up,” she says, firmer this time. No arguments allowed. “I promise you, Tony, this is not the end of you.”


	11. Kate and the Wolves

“Mr. Gibbs? You’re Anthony DiNozzo’s medical proxy?” The doctor peers down at them, clipboard in hand and long, cat-like ears flat against his head. Kate sits up and blinks frantically to clear the sleep from her eyes while the doctor watches her sympathetically. She stares at the two fluffy tails curled close to his leg and out of the way of the staff bustling about the waiting room, fighting the desire to reach out and touch the thick fur coating them, blaming it on her exhaustion.

Gibbs nods, standing up from the hard, plastic chair. “How is he?”

The doctor smiles, nodding. “The shot made a mess, but he’s out of surgery and should make a full recovery. He’ll need several blood transfusions over an extended period of time to replace what’s used up while he heals but, fortunately, vampires are quite hardy. We’ll be keeping him until tonight and he’ll need to come back every second day for another transfusion for at least three weeks, depending on how it heals up.”

“Can we see him?” Kate asks, carefully straightening stiff legs and flinching as her joints seize. She glares at Gibbs and his easy stance, despite the several hours spent in the uncomfortable seating.

The doctor nods. “Of course. He’s quite heavily medicated and does need his rest, so I request that you be as quick as possible. Dr. Mallard is already there.”

Kate hears a soft snore behind her. Gibbs turns and nods at the two seats next to Kate. “You wake them,” he grunts, and walks away.

Kate looks down at Abby asleep on McGee’s shoulder, the golem with his head tilted back and mouth half-open in a snore. “Aww, I almost don’t want to,” she jokes, tugging gently on one of Abby’s braids.

Abby jerks upright, eyes wide. “Mm’ awake. Is Tony okay? Where’s Gibbs? Tony’s okay, right?”

McGee slowly straightens, yawns, and looks around. “Tony out of surgery?”

“He’s out and we can visit him, if you guys are done cuddling,” Kate teases them.

Abby shoots out the chair and is gone in an instant, before McGee even seems to register what’s happening. Kate laughs at the glazed expression on his face and holds her hand out to him. “Come on, Tim. Let’s go before Abby accuses us of neglecting our familial duties.”

 

* * *

 

Kate’s stunned at the change in her partner in just five short hours. His skin is drawn tightly against his bones and is tinged with blue underneath the white pallor. For the first time, he actually looks like what he is.

For the first time, he looks like a vampire.

“Boss,” he grates out, voice painfully gravelly. “Screwed up.”

Gibbs rolls his eyes, brushing his hand gently against the back of Tony’s head. “Yeah, you did. Both of you.” Kate shuffles uncomfortably back, bumping against McGee. “Now, you’re going to get better, and then you’re going to fix it.”

Tony nods, before peering around Gibbs and smiling shakily. “Kaaate! My doc is a cat, Kate. You love cats, especially fluffy cats. Cat-person. Cat people. Cop-kabob?”

“Cop-kabob?” Kate questions. She’d forgotten how stupid Tony tends to get on pain medication.

“Sleepwalkers, cat people,” he slurs, eyes shutting. “Just think of yourself as lunch…”

“Whatever he’s on, I want some,” Abby says, bouncing over to the IV on Tony’s arm and examining it.

“You can pat him too,” Tony offers, “because you love cats.”

“Be that as it may, Anthony, Caitlin’s love of cats isn’t really a justifiable reason to try to pet your doctor,” Ducky scolds gently, flipping through the chart on the end of the bed.

“You tried to pet your doctor?” Abby asks, bouncing on her heels in delight. “Aww! Was he soft?”

“Soft,” Tony hums, eyes closing. Gibbs shakes his head at him and glares at Kate and Abby.

A cell rings shrilly, breaking the silence as DiNozzo drifts off to sleep. Gibbs pulls it out, turning to avoid Ducky’s disapproving glare as he answers it with a crisp, “Gibbs. Uh huh.” Kate watches his expression darken and feels McGee tense slightly next to her. “Damnit, Palmer, don’t go in. Wait where you are. I don’t care about your pets, I care about you staying the hell out of that apartment! Wait!” His arm snaps down, shoving the cell into his pocket and gesturing at Kate and McGee as he moves quickly to the door. “Palmer’s apartment has been broken into. Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

Abby is perched on the side of the autopsy table, looking about nervously. “It’s even creepier down here when Ducky isn’t here. Can’t we wait in my lab?”

Sticking his head out from the adjourning office, Palmer answers: “He’s at the hospital with Tony still. Gibbs said not to leave autopsy.” Kate hears a soft yap from the room, and his curly head disappears again.

McGee is sitting on the floor, head bent over his laptop. “Face it, Abby, we’re under house arrest while Gibbs is on the warpath.”

“House arrest with Palmer and his zoo,” Kate says glumly. “Why does he have rats? No one likes rats.”

Abby kicks her feet restlessly against the side of the table. “I like rats. They’re actually really clever. And Jimmy’s do tricks!”

“Who do you think is doing this?” McGee asks, looking up at Kate. “The FBI found surveillance spells in all our homes, except Gibbs’ and Ducky’s. Who’s after us?”

“And why are they after me and Abby?” Palmer calls out from the office. He appears once more, forehead wrinkled in thought and one white rat perched on his shoulder. Kate suppresses a shudder as the rat turns beady, red eyes in her direction and twitches its whiskers. “We don’t even go into the field.”

“Who the hell knows, we’re benched,” Kate grumbles. “The FBI isn’t even letting me go home to get clothes. They say our apartments are their crime scenes now.”

“The real question is, why didn’t they go after Gibbs or Ducky?” Abby asks.

“They did,” Gibbs says shortly, stepping into autopsy with his eyebrows drawn together in a dark glare. “They didn’t get past Ducky’s dogs. And, by going after my team, they’re going after me.”

“What’s going on?” Kate exclaims at the same time Palmer jumps in with a sharp, “Is my apartment okay?”

“It’s an FBI case now, we’re being sent home to sit this one out,” Gibbs replies without actually replying to anything, aiming that dark glare at Palmer, who visibly wilts.

“You’re just going to take that?” Kate exclaims disbelievingly. “Gibbs! They shot Tony!”

Gibbs turns the glare on her and she finds that she’s lost the ability to speak, wilting just like Palmer. “Does that sound like something I would do?” he growls.

“No, not really, Boss,” McGee cuts in, pulling a strained face in her direction as though trying to warn her to shut up. “What’s the plan?”

“We give them a single target they can’t resist,” he says shortly. “In the one place they haven’t breached yet.”

“Targets being us?” McGee squeaks.

“We’re going to Ducky’s?” Abby says, jumping off the table and almost clapping before seemingly thinking twice about it. “I’ve never been to Ducky’s!”

“My place,” Gibbs replies shortly. “Palmer, isn’t there somewhere you can leave the zoo?”

Palmer runs a finger over the rat on his shoulder, swallowing nervously. “Err… Palilalia frets without me. Sir, I mean, Gibbs, I mean… not really.”

Gibbs sighs and rubs his eyes with one hand. “Bring them. Meet in the squad room in five. We travel in pairs.” He turns and leaves, the door closing resolutely behind him.

Abby turns to Kate, grinning hugely. “Do you know what this means, Kate? It’s like an NCIS _sleepover_!”

“Oh boy,” McGee says, closing his laptop with a resounding snap.

 

* * *

 

“I’ll take the couch,” McGee offers as he helps Abby blow up the air mattress. “Gibbs has gone to get Tony, and he won’t be able to sleep on a couch with his stomach.”

“Shouldn’t Palmer take the couch?” Kate asks wryly. “He _is_ the smallest.”

“Gibbs told me I have to take the spare room,” Palmer replies with a shake of his head. “He says if he sees one single rat tail around the house he’ll…” The gremlin trails off with a miserable expression. “Well, he didn’t actually say what he’d do, but I’m not going to test it.”

Abby has Palmer’s dog, a brown, curly-coated spaniel mix, cuddled close on her lap. Amusingly, it’s bigger than he is. “Don’t listen to him,” she says. “He’s all bark and no bite. Not like Echolalia here.” She snuggles the dog closer, burying her nose into its fur. “Isn’t that right, Echo-Snookums?”

Kate peers out the window cautiously. She’s not entirely sure this is the right call, putting their whole team under the one roof. It’s like hanging a dinner bell out.

Their whole team minus Ducky, who’d scoffed at the idea that anyone could get into his home.

At the very least, they should have put Abby and Jimmy into a safe house, she thinks. And with Tony’s injury… she moves away from the window, pacing into the front hall and checking the front door again, before moving to the back.

“Kate, stop pacing,” McGee says, following her and catching her arm. “You’re scaring Palmer. Gibbs wouldn’t have suggested this if it wasn’t safe, and we have agents surrounding us. You and I are both armed, Abby has her magic. We’re _fine_.”

“Also,” Abby adds, poking her head into the hall, “this whole place is absolutely littered with protection spells. They’re making my nose itch, look.” She taps the wood panelling on the wall, sparking a light that glitters up the wall in a trace of silver webbing. “Anyone who tries to break in here is going to get a nasty shock.”

Kate thinks of the two agents who’d been guarding Tony’s apartment the night before and feels sick. They’d both died doing their jobs, protecting them. She hopes that Gibbs’ determination to end this isn’t affected by the loss of the two agents and Tony’s injury. They need him clear-headed.

Palmer’s dog wanders out, curly fur flopping into its eyes as it snuffles at the wall, sneezing loudly. The dog’s sneeze echoes in the walls, web-like spells glinting in reply. Abby’s mouth drops open in delight as she scoops it up and bolts back into the living room, shrieking: “Palmer, your dog just did magic!”

Kate checks the lock on the front door again, hand on her gun, unable to shake the feeling that something is terribly wrong. Shaking his head, McGee grabs her hand and pulls it away. “Come on, Kate. Let’s make dinner, take your mind off of it.”

But Tony’s voice rings in her memory and refuses to let her rest.

_If it feels like someone is out to get you, they probably are._

 

* * *

 

McGee is snoring on the couch as Kate lays on the air mattress watching shadows from the curtains dance on the wall. The mattress shifts under Abby’s weight as she rolls over in her sleep, arm brushing against Kate’s. It had been a choice of sharing with Abby, or sharing with Tony, which is no choice at all, really.

She glances over to the basement door, a soft glow filtering out from under the crack. Gibbs had vanished down there after berating Palmer for managing to break the stove and firmly telling Abby that he is _not_ getting a dog when she’d suggested it to help with his ‘temper’. Kate had called goodnight down to him earlier but hadn’t ventured past the stairs, sensing he wanted to be alone.

Twenty-four hours ago, Tony had been shot protecting her. Two agents had been killed by persons unknown. The night before that, someone had tried to kill her in her apartment. And now, they’re hiding here, doing nothing.

It doesn’t feel right.

She carefully eases herself off the mattress without waking Abby and pads softly over to the basement door, cracking it open. Inside, she can see the half-built hull of a wooden boat, a couple of rickety stools, a tool bench… but no Gibbs. Heart slamming in her chest as she backs out of the basement, she glances around the kitchen and considers waking the others. Instead, she edges towards the front door, past the sleeping forms of Abby and McGee. A canine yawn sounds out behind her, and she turns her head to spot Palmer’s dog peering out with its head tilted to the side. Kate turns back, jiggling the handle to check that the lock is still engaged as the dog snuffs at her pant leg. Whuffing gently, the dog pads away and looks back at Kate with an exasperated expression.

“What?” Kate hisses at it, before glancing guiltily over at her sleeping companions. The last thing McGee needs to see is her talking to a dog—he’s already been watching her carefully, worried about her mental state. Giving in, she sidles after the dog as it stands on its hind legs next to the couch, nudging at the curtain with a damp nose. When she twitches the curtain back and looks out, the edges of the outside street are softened by the gloom of the night. Echo’s breath puffs warm and wet onto her hand as she pushes her head past and presses her nose against the glass, fogging it up annoyingly. She’s looking at something. Kate follows her gaze. Barely visible in the hedging across the street, a shaggy shape watches her back, sharp-tipped ears pointed in her direction. Echo nudges her hand and points her muzzle in another direction, towards the barest gleam of eyes reflecting light back from the shadows of Gibbs’ front yard.

“Clever dog,” she whispers to Echo, who wags her stumpy tail happily. “Guess Gibbs and Fornell came to an agreement.”

Guess neither of them were going to risk another unprepared protection detail.

The dog hops down and pads away, Kate following her carefully. McGee stirs, opening one eye sleepily. “Kate? Is there a problem?”

“Nah, bathroom,” she answers, and he nods and curls back over. The snoring resumes.

She follows the dog to the back door, unlocked, and slips out after her. The air outside is stiff with cold and she’s thankful when the dog leans against her leg, a heavy, warm weight. A familiar silver wolf materializes next to her, bumping his nose into her shoulder in greeting and sitting down carefully. He lowers his head to glare at the spaniel, who ignores the dark look and wags her tail blissfully. A second greying wolf pads over the grass, laying his head on the banister of Gibbs’ porch and winking at her. She recognises Fornell in the shape of his eyes, bright with humour.

“How many of you are out here?” she asks Gibbs, who shrugs his shoulders and flicks one ear in the direction of the other wolf. The answer is as clear as if he spoke it out loud. _Enough_. Gibbs butts his head into her, herding her back towards the door. She fancies she can see the words in his expression: _alright, you caught us, now back inside._

Before he can turn and disappear into the night, she lays one hand on his ruff, fingers threading easily into the thick fur. She thinks of Tony and his poor _Nekomata_ doctor and chokes back a laugh at how her partner would respond if he saw her basically patting their boss.

“Gibbs?” she says softly. He turns his head back to her, light reflecting weirdly from his blue eyes, leaning ever so slightly into her hand. “Be careful?”

He huffs at her, and she feels the growl rumble through his body into her fingers.

_Well, yeah, Kate._

She slips inside and looks down at the copper-coated dog, who smiles widely at her with her tongue hanging from her mouth. “Remind me to ask Palmer just what you are exactly,” she says to the beast.

The dog winks, and she could swear that she hears her laugh.


	12. Kate and her Family

Abby’s face is the picture of nervousness when Kate and Gibbs walk into her lab. “What have you got for us, Abs?” Gibbs asks, holding out a Caf-Pow.

Abby’s gaze flickers back and forth from the drink to the man holding it, teeth nipping at her lip. She’s gone full witch today, tiny silver broomstick charms hanging from her black choker. “I’ve got something Gibbs, of course I’ve got something. But what I’ve got isn’t the got that you want me to have. It’s probably one of the worst gots I could possibly have gotten, and you might want to wait until you’ve gotten—”

“Abby,” Gibbs cuts her off gently, placing the cup on her workbench. “Today?”

Abby takes a deep breath, tapping a button on her keyboard. Two IDs flash up on the screen, the men pictured on them expressionless. “The mages responsible for the tracking spells in our homes. I managed to track down the style of spell-casting to a particular school, and from there narrowed it down to the professor responsible for the… well, it’s taught in one organisation, Gibbs.”

“These are the men who cast those spells?” Gibbs asks, face darkening.

Kate looks at the IDs and groans. “Does this mean what I think it means?”

Abby nods. “Mossad.”

 

* * *

 

Kate and McGee stand in front of Tony’s desk, looking down at it sadly. “Quiet in here today,” McGee comments.

“Yeah… peaceful, almost,” Kate replies, sliding open Tony’s desk drawer and picking through. “Does Tony ever clean this thing out?”

“It’s almost an improvement…” McGee is ignoring her, running his finger over the top of Tony’s monitor.

“Don’t get used to it.” Gibbs has materialized behind them, expression grim.

McGee jumps, spinning around guiltily. “Boss! I didn’t hear you come in! How’s Tony?”

“Breathing.” Gibbs is watching the elevator, eyebrows working double time in something almost approaching concern.

Kate closes Tony’s drawer with a snap, watching the people walking out of the elevator in a group, closely followed by Gibbs’ gaze. “Who are they?”

“Mossad,” Gibbs says bluntly.

The three foreign officers stride past, heading for the director’s office, accompanied by two junior agents. Kate meets the scrutiny of one of the officers, a woman who moves with feline grace, her dark eyes watchful. The woman’s mouth quirks at one side as she passes, nodding ever so slightly in Kate’s direction.

“Oh man, Tony’s going to be pissed he missed _her,”_ McGee whispers, whistling under his breath. “She’s stunning.”

“Pretty sure she can hear you, Tim,” Kate points out as the woman glances at McGee, smirking. McGee’s ears turn red as he ducks down heavily into Tony’s chair, hiding behind the partitioning and laying his head on his arm. Even so, Kate can still see him continuing to redden.

“Ziva David,” Gibbs states, nostrils flaring. “Daughter of Mossad Director, Eli David.”

“Sending in the big guns to try and get their agents out of the particular creek that they’ve found themselves up,” Kate states. Gibbs’ eyes narrow, brain working overtime behind his pale eyes. The corner of his mouth twists back slightly, an almost wolfish expression as he pieces something together.

“Where are you going?” she asks as he strides out of the bullpen and takes the stairs two at a time, following the previous group.

“To get some answers. Bout’ time we had some.” He pauses, looking back over his shoulder at them. “Starting to smell like cat in here.”

Kate looks down at McGee and shakes her head slightly. “You know, Tim, I’m really starting to dislike cats.”

“I’m pretty sure Tony feels the same,” McGee mumbles into the crook of his elbow.

 

* * *

 

“We can go home?” Palmer asks excitedly. Echo is at his feet, wagging her tail happily. Kate eyes her suspiciously, not really trusting the placid, doggy expression on her face. “Is it safe? I mean, I really like staying with you Gibbs, kind of, but you know it would be… good. To go home. Not that it wouldn’t be good to stay with you.” Abby knees the gremlin and smiles innocently up at Gibbs.

“Yup. You’ll have security details. You too, Duck.”

Ducky looks up from his paperwork, gentle face creased in a frown. “That is entirely unnecessary. Mother and I are perfectly capable of our own defence, as we have both previously proven.”

“What did the director say to Mossad?” Kate asks curiously, cutting off Gibbs before he can translate his frightening glare into words.

“They deny involvement and are pulling all Mossad operatives from the US pending further investigation,” Gibbs replies sourly.

“Won’t that only remove the officers not involved with the attacks?” McGee looks worried, peering at Gibbs. “If they’re actually not involved and the operatives are rogue, we’ll still be in danger.”

“Unless, of course, the point of the attacks was to foster disharmony between our countries.” Ducky steeples his fingers, deep in thought. “That was the intent behind the plague hidden in the inhaler that young Gerald unfortunately paid the price for.”

“They really fostered disharmony with DiNozzo, Duck. If you’re trying to imply this was a front…” Gibbs trails off, but the irritation there is clear, as he paces back and forth continuously from one side of the room to the other, all their gazes following him. It’s like a tennis match, their heads going back, forth, back, forth, and Kate’s feeling dizzy.

Ducky straightens. “Not at all, Jethro. We truly have been a thorn in their sides recently. I have no doubt that the threat was genuine.”

“Was?” Kate queries. “You think it’s over?”

“They can hardly pin the blame on Mossad if there are no Mossad to be blamed.” Ducky’s face is a mix of concern and calm and he smiles as though to reassure her, despite finishing with, “Of course, the stakes are very high if I’m wrong.”

Kate suddenly remembers something. “Oh, damn,” she groans.

Five pairs of eyes turn towards her. “Something the matter, Kate?” Gibbs questions.

She thumps her head into the wall, closing her eyes in exhaustion. “We’re going home and Jack set my goddamn _bed_ on fire.” She’s looking forward to a week sleeping on her couch, which is only a slight step up from an air mattress shared with Abby.

“Better your bed than you,” McGee points out.

Abby makes an excited squeak and bounces, waving her hands about to catch Kate’s attention. “We can go shopping!” she exclaims.

“Oh Abby… that would be lovely,” Kate replies, eyes widening in a panic. Gibbs looks away, probably to hide a smile, leaving her trapped. She turns her pleading gaze to Ducky and Palmer who both busy themselves with the paperwork in front of them. McGee just shrugs.

“I have so many ideas!” Abby chirps, pulling her cell out and beginning to Google madly. “How do you feel about birds?” Kate doesn’t think she’s ever seen Abby this excited before.

“Don’t worry,” McGee says glumly. “Coffins aren’t so uncomfortable.”

 

* * *

 

“Okay, Abby, I admit that the pillow cases are super cute,” Kate concedes, shopping bags bumping against her legs as they climb the stairs to her home. “I had no idea that shop even existed.”

Abby grins brightly, green eyes alight with amusement. “When it comes to décor, Kate, you can always trust me. Or Tony. He actually has good taste, considering he’s, well, Tony.”

Kate laughs, juggling the bags back and forth while she digs about for her keys. “Door’s open,” someone calls from inside her apartment.

They freeze, before glancing at each other, eyes widening. Kate has her gun, but it’s in a concealed carry under her shirt and her arms are full.

“What are the chances that that’s someone who wants to kill us?” Abby asks, looking slightly put out by the idea.

But the door opens and reveals a cheerful DiNozzo. He flashes them a blinding smile and gestures widely towards the inside of her apartment, flinching as the arm movement pulls at his injury. “Hello, ladies. Care for a cool beverage?”

“You’re in my home, Tony.” Kate frowns, trying to look around him for traps. “Offering me one of _my_ drinks. Why are you in my apartment?”

“Are you Kate’s security detail?” Abby asks, wrinkling her nose. “Because, well… one, you just got shot. And, two, they’re after you as well. Also, three, you just got shot. I don’t think you could hold a kitten off right now, and I _really_ don’t think they’re going to be sending kittens after us.”

Kate sniffs, continuing trying to peer around Tony without bumping against his heavily bandaged torso. “Should you be walking around?” Her apartment smells different… like… paint?

“Probably not,” Tony admits. “But, you know, my place kinda got all smashed up and Gibbs’ house smells like sandpaper and dust. Plays hell with my delicate sensitivities.”

“Have you been painting?” Kate snaps, suddenly livid. Of all the damn fool things for Tony to be doing, jumping up and down painting her walls is the _stupidest!_ If he’s tore his stitches before his healing has kicked in properly— “Tony! You didn’t need to do that!” She slips past him, carefully avoiding pushing him despite how furious she is with him right now. How dare—

“He didn’t.” Gibbs pops out of her room, tattered NIS hoodie splattered with even more paint than usual. “He watched.”

Kate blinks in shock at her boss. “Gibbs? Did you…?”

“Surprise!” Abby exclaims. “It was Tony’s idea.”

“Except I was going to be the paint-splattered hero, until Gibbs informed me that if I touched a paintbrush, he’d put another hole in me.” Tony carefully lowers himself onto the couch. There’s pain hidden behind his over-bright smile, and Gibbs hovers protectively over him. Kate walks slowly into through the apartment and into her room, looking about at the pale blue walls gleaming wetly, the brand-new mattress covered with a protective sheet of plastic, and the ceramic cat carefully glued back together and decorated with a jaunty bow covered in silver cobwebs.

“Alright, Kate?” McGee asks her from where he’s finishing replacing the window, rubbing his nose and smearing blue paint across his cheek. “I was going to buy the same colour, but Abby said you’d like this one instead.”

“And we picked bedding that matches!” Abby calls from behind her, sounding worried. “You do like it, don’t you?”

Kate blinks back what feels horrifyingly like tears. “It’s perfect, guys. Thank you.” She’s not going to cry, she’s not going to cry, she’s _not_ going to cry…

Abby claps in delight. “Ooh and wait until you see what we did to Tony’s place!”


	13. Kate and the Dead Man

It’s the most relaxing Sunday she’s had in months. One of those Sundays where she can slouch around her apartment in her old slacks, TV on for white noise in the background, nothing pressing on her mind except laundry. At least until her cell rings loudly, absolutely shattering the peace. Kate stares at the phone, heart dropping. After the last two months they’ve had, she really needs this time off and, if it’s Gibbs, then her peaceful Sunday afternoon is over.

If it’s Tony, more than likely her peaceful Sunday afternoon is still over.

She picks the phone up cautiously and checks the caller ID, huffing with relief at the name that flashes on the screen. “McGee, you better not be calling about a body,” she teases upon answering it. Doubtless, Abby and McGee have found another movie to drag her along to. She runs through her clean clothes in her head, wondering if she has anything decent to wear to the movies. Maybe that blouse—

The silence on the other end of the phone breaks her cheerful consideration of the night’s events. “McGee?” She hears him sigh and can just imagine the expression on his face as he runs his fingers through his short hair anxiously.

“Kate…” he begins, then stopping suddenly. Her gut twists into a tight knot.

“Who is it?” she says, forcing the words out. She’s heard that tone of voice before, right before the words, ‘we’re sorry to inform you but…’ “Is Tony okay? Oh my god, is Tony okay?”

“No, no, Tony’s fine,” McGee says hurriedly. “It’s… Christ. Turn the news on.”

She picks up the remote and flicks to the news with her heart beating heavily in her chest. A picture of Fornell is being shown on the network, an overly made-up presenter looking serious as she mouths soundless words. Kate doesn’t hear what she’s saying, eyes locked on the scrolling news bar under Fornell’s picture.

_FBI Special Agent commits suicide after arrest. FBI Garou Tobias Fornell accused of treason; found dead in cell. Quantico area Lycanthrope Pack up in arms after one of their own accused._

“Does Gibbs know?” she asks. Her head buzzes fiercely, already working forward.

“He’s not answering.” McGee’s voice sounds distant, as though his head is tilted away from the phone. “God, Kate. He’s not answering. What do we do?”

Kate turns the TV off, feeling sick. “Call Ducky, get him to contact Gibbs. I’ll call Tony, and we’ll meet at the office in an hour, okay?”

“Why the office? This isn’t our jurisdiction, we can’t look into an FBI case.”

Kate thinks of that night at Gibbs’ house, the two wolves in his backyard watching her with smiling eyes. She thinks of Gibbs pacing side-by-side in the sewers with the closest thing he has to a pack, communicating silently with his oldest friend. She thinks of the hidden grief in the lines of Gibbs’ face and closes her eyes against the image. “There’s two places that Gibbs in a crisis goes—and, somehow, I think this crisis might be a little bit more than his boat can handle.”

McGee is quiet on the other end of the line. The only sign that he’s still there is the gentle puff of his breath against the mouthpiece. “This is going to be bad, isn’t it?”

She doesn’t need to answer that. They both already know.

 

* * *

 

She picks DiNozzo up and the drive to the office is fraught with tension. Even Tony has nothing to say, staring moodily out the side window and picking at the bandage on his stomach. Kate glances at him from the corner of her eye as they turn towards the naval yard. He’s itching at his bandage, and she smacks his hand away from his stomach, frowning at him when he turns startled eyes onto her. “Stop that. You’ll loosen it.”

He pulls his shirt down, tucking it in without saying a word and shifting his hands onto his thighs. Kate listens to the soft tapping of his foot jiggling up and down as he moves with restless energy. “You okay?” she asks him finally, because it seems like the right time to ask something like that.

He watches her with dark eyes. “Not really me who needs that question asked.”

She knows he’s thinking of Gibbs and bites at her lip. The security guard at the naval base provides a welcome distraction as she flashes her ID and hears DiNozzo doing the same. They pull into the parking lot, Kate spotting McGee climbing hesitantly out of his car. She pulls up next to him and the three agents cluster together as they walk towards the entrance. Tony nudges her gently, his gait slightly uneven, and nods towards a familiar car parked close to the front door of the building. Kate recognises Gibbs’ car and sees McGee shoot her an odd look, as though he hadn’t quite believed they’d find their boss here.

“What do we say?” McGee asks. Kate watches Tony trying to straighten his hair in the reflection of the walls of the elevator and waits for him to answer. McGee is waiting as well, the weight of expectation resting heavily on the shoulders of the senior agent. But Tony remains silent, mind a thousand miles away from them all. Kate’s never been in his company for this long without him saying something before. It’s unsettling, like going to Abby’s lab and having no music playing.

The elevator dings and they step out. McGee is walking so close to Kate that she can feel his toes barely missing her heels. She can just see the top of Gibbs’ head at his desk, bowed behind his monitors. Her heart twists. This is it.

DiNozzo suddenly stops, chokes out a laugh, and she crashes into him. “Tony,” she hisses as his laugh devolves into a strangled snort. “This really isn’t the time—”

Gibbs raises his head to look at them, and it’s not Gibbs at all.

“Agents Todd, DiNozzo, McGee,” Fornell greets them, smirking.

 

* * *

 

“They found two-kilos of coke and fifty-grand in counterfeit bills in my freezer. I thought the coke in ice cream quarts was a nice touch.” Fornell sniffs suspiciously at the cup Gibbs hands him, before tasting it and pulling a face. “What’s this supposed to be?”

“Coffee,” Gibbs replies shortly. “Someone’s gone to a lot of trouble to frame you.”

“Expensive job,” Tony muses, sitting stiffly in his chair. “Who hates you enough to throw away two kilos of the white stuff?”

Fornell sips his coffee again. “I’m an FBI agent, DiNutso. Take a number.”

“Does the FBI know you’re here?” McGee asks, fingers pausing on his keyboard. “I mean… it’s all over the news that you’re dead.”

Fornell raises his eyebrow in an eerily Gibbs-like expression. “Well I don’t know, McGee. Because the best place to hide from federal agents is in a federal agency, don’t you think?”

Kate remembers the silent way that she’d seen Fornell’s pack move, changing direction as one singular entity. Somehow, she thinks that it’s probably be a lot harder to hide one of their own from them than simply staging a suicide and taking the GPS chip out of the ‘dead’ wolf’s cell.

“What do they achieve by running you out of the FBI?” she asks.

“Aside from removing the pack’s protection from us?” Gibbs replies quietly. “What more could they want, Kate?”

 

* * *

 

“What’s going to happen to Fornell?” Kate asks DiNozzo as the two older men vanish from the squad-room down to autopsy.

“FBI’ll hide him. Try to use that to flush out whoever set him up.” Tony pecks at his keyboard slowly in the aggravating way he does to annoy McGee, the younger agent’s eye twitching as he watches Tony tapping away.

“There are twenty wolves working in Quantico alone,” McGee states. “That’s twenty people who, if they put their mind to it, could find him in a heartbeat. Can twenty people keep a secret?”

“Only if they’re dead,” replies Tony.

Kate thinks of Ari’s sharp, green eyes watching her mockingly. The FBI, Fornell in particular, had squirrelled him away with the promise of him infiltrating Al Qaeda. Gibbs doesn’t trust the double agent act and, if Gibbs doesn’t trust it, neither do they. “You think Ari has anything to do with this?”

The clack of Tony’s keyboard stops as he peers over his monitor at her. “Not really Ari-esque, is it? Coke in a freezer? That’s not very stylish. It’s not ‘sneak into NCIS in a body-bag’ stylish, anyway.”

“Ari’s on our side,” McGee points out. “Fornell told Gibbs to back off. Mossad told Gibbs to back off. The _director_ told Gibbs to back off.”

“Did Gibbs back off?” Tony leans back, grinning widely. “Doesn’t really sound very Gibbs-like to back off, now, does it?”

“Dibs not asking him about it.” There’s no way Kate’s opening that particular bag of cats again.

“We don’t have to ask him.” Cocky DiNozzo is back in full force. Kate hadn’t realised before now just how much she’d missed him. “Not when we have a little forensics witch who is absolutely terrible at keeping secrets from us, and who no doubt has been keeping tabs on the down low for our boss-man.”

“We’re asking Abby?” McGee looks concerned by the idea of testing Abby’s loyalty to Gibbs.

“Nope,” Tony turns his bright smile onto McGee, eyes crinkling wickedly. “ _You’re_ asking Abby, McChatty. Run along.”

 

* * *

 

McGee is back and looking miserable. Kate can’t work out if it’s the hangdog expression that makes him look so mournful, or if it’s the Caf-Pow slowly dripping off his chin and ear.

“She didn’t take it well?” Tony asks innocently.

McGee glares at the vampire, a glob of ice making its way slowly down his neckline. “Go ask Abby, McGee,” he says harshly, mimicking Tony’s voice. “She likes you best, McGee. She won’t throw her drink at your head, McGee!”

“Well, that was a bust,” Kate says, ignoring his theatrics and dropping her head into her hands, thinking longingly of her quiet Sunday night spent with a cup of tea and a book.

“Oh no, she told me,” McGee says, using his tie to wipe his face. “Ari’s not in Israel. He’s here, in the States. Apparently, he’s holidaying in the Rocky Mountains. I asked her why she hadn’t told us earlier, which was when she threw her drink at me. She seems _stressed_.”

“Nothing to tie him to this then?” Kate checks. If not, they’re back to square one. She thinks of the heart-stopping moment when she’d seen the report of Fornell’s death on the TV and wistfully remembers the time before she’d met Ari Haswari. “What do we do now then?”

Tony switches his computer off and stands with painful care, slowly stretching. “We wait. He’ll make a mistake eventually.”

Kate doesn’t disagree with that ruling, but she hopes that Ari makes that mistake before one of them ends up dead.


	14. Kate and the Selkie

They’ve had no leads on the case of a missing Petty Officer, and Gibbs has sent her and the freshly re-instated DiNozzo back to talk with the wife. Tony keeps up a constant chatter on the way to the home, tapping his hands on the steering wheel along with the beat of the radio’s music and recounting every movie he can think of where the wife was responsible for the husband’s murder.

“She didn’t kill her husband, Tony.” Kate’s exhausted. She leans her head against the cool glass of the window and thinks of the wife’s grief-stricken face and the two wide-eyed children watching from the door as she’d tried to keep it together for the NCIS team. The children were the image of their mother, fair-haired and blue-eyed. Kate glances down at a picture of the father, noting his dark eyes and deeply tanned skin.

“She certainly doesn’t seem to think he’s coming back though,” Tony points out. “Come on, Kate. Haven’t you ever seen _Thelma and Louise_? ‘My husband wasn’t sweet to me. Look how I turned out’.” He mimics the voice, pitching his own in a high falsetto.

“Have you ever considered that you have trust issues with women?” she asks him dryly, closing her eyes and chasing a niggling thought in the back of her mind that evades her. He stops talking as he considers her words.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he says finally, hurt. Single bed, she thinks but doesn’t say. The last thing she needs is a pissed off DiNozzo haunting her workday. “We could have a _Kill Bill_ situation here.” Tony’s voice is over-loud as he ignores her crankiness. “Maybe an ex-lover, furious at being scorned, she’s been driven mad with grief over the loss of her unborn child…”

Kate sits up so sharply her head smacks the glass. Tony jerks in surprise, the car drifting sideways slightly before he corrects it and glances at her accusingly.

“The children,” she says, thinking of the two frightened kids watching her from the hall. Two kids watching her, but three children in the pictures on the wall. “How many children in the family?” She rifles frantically through her file, finding a picture of the family, all of them, blonde-haired wife and the two fair children, the father holding a dark-haired toddler with huge brown eyes in his arms.

“Two kids from the mother’s former marriage, one from the current,” Tony says, shooting a glance at the picture. “Bet you can’t guess which is which.”

Kate stares at the sombre looking toddler. “Where’s the youngest? We were at the house for hours, looking for evidence. Why didn’t we see him?”

“Day-care? Family?” Tony pauses, thinking. “Why send only the youngest away?”

Kate thinks back to the initial interview with the mother and tries to approach it from another angle. Tony’s right, she seems sure that her husband won’t return. Clearly grieving. Grieving a loss… of a child, or a husband?

And why would she report her husband missing, but not her child?

 

* * *

 

Tony talks with the wife, his charming mask firmly in place. Kate excuses herself to the bathroom and wanders down the hallway examining the pictures on the wall. All three children, equally featured. Every sign of devoted parents. She opens a door and finds herself in a nursery. Running her hand along the soft blanket folded in the crib, the smell of baby powder is strong in the air. The room is cheerfully decorated, walls painted with pictures of the ocean, seals and dolphins gambolling in the waves. A drawer she pulls open is full of neatly stacked clothes, no gaps to show where any have been taken out for an overnight stay. A diaper bag sits near the door, stocked and untouched. She bumps against a dresser as she crouches to read the spines of the picture books on the small shelf, knocking a few stuffed toys to the ground. Picking up a battered rabbit, she smiles at its tattered ear and faded bow-tie, clearly a well-loved relic from one of the older siblings. The other toys are new, fur soft and fine, a cheerful looking whale and two more seals, button noses shiny.

That thought is back, niggling at her mind, accompanied by what Gibbs would call a ‘gut feeling’. She examines the toys before putting them back and trying to focus on what’s catching her eye.

The pictures books, old and new. Old books featuring jungle animals with frozen smiles and neon-coloured fur. Old books with people and cities and brightly coloured automobiles, all of them well-worn. A selection of brand new books, beaches and rivers, an alphabet book of sea life. When she runs her finger over them, the old books leave a fine trail of dust on her hand.

She picks up the bunny and carefully closes the nursery door behind her, tiptoeing along to the other bedroom where the two older children look up from their drawing. “Hello,” she greets them from the doorway. “My name is Kate. What are your names?”

“Ally,” the older girl says suspiciously, green crayon forgotten in her hand. “This is Alex. Why are you here?”

“I’m helping find your dad. I’m with the police.” Kate sits next to them and holds the bunny out watching as the smaller boy takes it and pats the ears lovingly. “Is this yours?” she asks him.

“It was,” Ally replies, looking from the rabbit to Kate. “He gave it to Dylan when he was born. I gave him my cat toy, Buttons.” She looks down, biting at her lip, and Kate can see her face reddening with the effort not to cry. “He likes Buttons better.” Kate spots an orange patch of fur on one of the beds, half-covered by the girl’s pillow.

“Where is Dylan?” Kate asks them softly. The younger boy looks unfazed by the question, smiling at her and hugging his bunny. The girl seems torn. Upset. Guilty.

“He went with Daddy because Mommy played a trick,” she says finally, her voice a whisper. “He didn’t take Buttons, even though Dilly likes him better.”

“Where did Daddy take Dylan?” Kate’s gut is churning. She thinks of the sea-themed nursery, the dark-liquid eyes of the boy and his father.

Tony hadn’t seen it but, she doubts Tony is the kind of person to have had fairy-tales read to him as a child. The same with McGee. Gibbs? Maybe, but, somehow, he’d missed it too. That was a benefit of being human, she supposes. Her parents had still read her stories without laughing at the inaccuracies.

“He asked me to open the box,” Ally says, and now she really is crying, a trickle of snot touching her lip. “He said he’d surprise me if I opened the smelly box, but he didn’t surprise me at all, he just went.” Alex hands her his picture with crayon-grubby hands. She looks down at it and feels her heart sink in her chest.

The mother cries when Kate returns to the kitchen and places the drawing on the table in front of her. “I loved him so much,” she tells Kate between sobs. “They were my life, and everyone said that he’d leave if he got the chance, that I’d never keep him. And now he’s gone and he took our son, and I’ll never find them again.”

Tony studies the picture, his brow furrowed. The three figures on the beach, blonde hair sticking out wildly as they face the ocean, holding hands.

The two shapes in the waves, indistinct.

“Where did you hide it?” she asks the woman gently and sees the dawning comprehension on Tony’s face.

The grieving wife leads them to the attic, pointing them up the stairs. She grabs Kate’s hand as Kate goes to follow Tony up the ascent, her hand clammy and grip tight. Kate meets her eyes and sees the pain and guilt there. “Would he have stayed?” she asks, and Kate can hear the begging in her words. “If I hadn’t done it, if I’d trusted him, would he have stayed?”

Kate doesn’t answer, just climbs into the attic and finds Tony standing in front of a holly-wood chest, his eyes downcast. He can’t touch the pale timber, but she can. When she opens the lid, she can smell the tang of sea-salt and a wild smell that reminds her a little of Gibbs.

She thinks of her nana, reading her stories about seals who find human lovers and join them on the land, only to inevitably return to the ocean. She had asked her nana if they ever had happy endings, if they ever lived happily ever after. Her nana had smiled at her and said, “Of course. They don’t write stories about people living out their lives in quiet peace. As long as you never break the one rule.”

Selkies are fae, and no one should ever try to trick the fae.

 

* * *

 

She’s not going home to Indianapolis this year for Thanksgiving. Her brothers are all busy with their new lives and her sister caring, but distant. Kate can’t help but think of the wife and her two remaining children celebrating Thanksgiving at a table with two empty places, the father and son somewhere unknown.

Sometimes, it’s hard to remember what to be thankful for.

A knock at her door interrupts her morose musings, and she answers it with a sighed, “What do you want, Tony?”

Tony grins wickedly at her, gleeful at having caught her out in a lie. She’d adamantly told them she was going home for Thanksgiving, refusing to allow their pity. “I knew you were lying. You get all squirrelly when you try to hide things from me.”

“So, you decided to make my day even worse?” she snaps at him.

He shrugs, holding up a six pack of beer and a bag of half-thawed steaks. “Thought you might want to join us.”

The steaks drip onto her hallway carpet as Kate wrinkles her nose at them and asks, “Join who?”

He doesn’t even need to answer the question as Abby appears, waving her arms in excitement. “Kate! We’re going to Gibbs’ for lunch, come with us! Ducky’s coming! Gibbs makes the best steak, which I guess makes sense, because he’s a carnivore and all, although Tony is a terrible cook and he’s a carnivore too, so…”

Kate’s not stupid enough to think she can fight the combined efforts of Abby and Tony and ducks back into her apartment to find her keys, half-listening to Abby chatter on about their team’s culinary skills. It’s not until she’s in the car on their way to their boss’s house when she wonders if either of the other two had bothered to let Gibbs know that they were coming.

 

* * *

 

Turns out, Gibbs is expecting them anyway, merely raising an eyebrow at Kate when she trails in after the other two and setting out another place.

“Who else is coming?” Tony asks, counting the plates on the table.

“Ducky’s bringing Palmer,” Gibbs responds mildly. Kate counts the places as well, coming up with one extra and exchanging a curious look with Tony.

“You got a lady friend coming, Boss?” Tony asks cheekily. He opens a beer and flops back onto the couch with relish. Kate eyes his shirt, knowing that the skin underneath is marred with the pocked scarring of the healed wound he’d taken for her. He’d refused to let her see it, ignoring all her attempts to peek and merely telling her that the scarring would fade in time. She’s even offered to tell him what her tattoo is if he shows her, an offer that he’d seemed sorely tempted by but, ultimately, refused.

“No lady would be found dead in this place,” grumbles a voice from the doorway. Three heads turn to see Ducky and Palmer letting themselves in, trailed by a cranky looking Fornell. “Not unless she really likes boats.”

Palmer looks nervously from Gibbs to Fornell, sidling past with Echolalia at his heels and creeping to Abby’s side. Kate doesn’t blame him. She can’t imagine a car-ride with the irritable FBI agent would have been fun for their anxious autopsy tech, even with Ducky refereeing.

“What are you doing here?” Tony asks, looking sorely put out.

“Tobias has been keeping my mother and I company this past month,” Ducky answers, smiling genially. “Jethro was kind enough to extend an invitation to dine to us all, an invitation that we were happy to accept.”

Kate studies the new lines on Fornell’s face and thinks that perhaps this is the first time the man has been out of hiding since he’d been framed. “Is that safe? I mean, you’re supposed to be dead.”

“Safe enough,” Gibbs replies. That seems to be the end of it as he hurries into the kitchen and shoos Palmer away from his fridge.

“I’ve never seen Ducky’s house,” Tony mutters in her ear. “He wouldn’t even let me stay when my place was being fumigated.”

“I’d take Fornell as a house guest any day over you.” Kate pokes her tongue out at him childishly. “I bet he doesn’t leave the toilet seat up.”

Any reply DiNozzo had planned is cut off by a growl behind her. Kate turns, spotting Echo standing rigidly near her, ears and tail held stiffly upright. “Hey girl,” she greets her nervously, looking about for Palmer and extending her hand to the dog’s nose. “What’s up with you?”

Echo sniffs at her hand, and then bays. Three echoing barks resonate throughout the house. They sink deeply into her bones, chilling her through and through until she doesn’t think she’ll ever be warm again, staggering back and feeling the floor become indistinct below her.

For a moment, the room fades and leaves her standing alone on a foggy, broken path.

She blinks and she’s back. Everyone is staring at her. The barks are followed by silence, broken only by Echo’s sad whine as she flops to the ground in front of Kate and eyes her miserably from under a fringe of fur. Kate stares at the dog, before slowly raising her eyes to look at the others in the room. Gibbs’ face is expressionless. Fornell seems unfazed.

Abby laughs nervously at the still form of the dog. “Aww, I thought she liked you,” she teases Kate. “Why is she growling?” Tony laughs behind her, his voice strange. Ducky’s face is still, gaze locked on Echo, and his hand trembles slightly around the stem of his wine-glass.

“I don’t feel right,” Kate says, and her voice is a thousand miles away, back on that foggy path. She blinks again, and feels the world slip once more. Magic, she recognises, and sways.

Palmer is the only one watching her, and his face is chalk-white with horror. Kate looks at him and feels fear slam into her like a kick in the gut.

“Jimmy?” she asks, her voice catching in her throat as she fights the bizarre urge to back away. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at her with those wide, terrified eyes. Her head spins under the weight of that terror.

The echoes of the baying in her ears becomes a roar and she falls towards the waiting path.


	15. Kate and the Fae Hound

Kate wakes in an unfamiliar room with Ducky hovering over her. “Ah, Caitlin,” he says when he sees her eyes flicker open. “You had a bit of a turn, I’m afraid.” His tone is cheerful, calm, but there’s a tense line to his face that chills her.

She sits up, ignoring the uneasy remnants of her fear still making her heart thump uncomfortably, and looks at him with the best cut-the-crap expression she can muster, one that she’d never levelled at Ducky before today. He meets her gaze for gaze. “What is Echo?” she asks firmly, hearing the faint baying in her mind as though the dog herself is still physically there.

Ducky hesitates, clearly indecisive about how much she needs to know. “You must understand, my dear, that often the fear of the thing can be greater than the thing itself. You can’t allow some silly old folktale to dictate the way you live your life. Why, when I was barely twenty-three, I knew a man who—”

She touches his hand, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and feeling her toes touch the cold wood of the flooring. “Ducky, please.”

He closes his eyes a moment. “Cù Sìth,” he says, finally. She waits, knowing that there’s always more to come with Ducky. “A fae hound, from the Scottish Highlands. Echo, no doubt, can trace her lineage back to the original Wild Hunt. What a remarkable creature, why I didn’t even realise she was—”

“The barking?”

Ducky’s kind eyes are troubled. “Caitlin, I really don’t…” She glares at him, unsuccessfully, hears the scuff of a shoe on the floorboard by the door.

Gibbs is in the doorway, eyes dark. “Three bays from the harbinger of death foretells doom to the listener, often by being overcome by terror by the end of the third bark.” Ducky turns his head sharply to stare at their usually reticent boss. “I read, Duck. It’s a myth, just like vampires and garlic.”

“Perhaps,” Ducky says quietly, “but I heard nothing. No barking, nor baying. The dog simply stared and whined most distressingly, and you went quite strange in response, Caitlin. The magic was what alerted me to the dog’s nature, such a—” He stops, and breathes instead of finishing his thought. Gibbs is silent. “No, I didn’t hear any barking.”

“Doesn’t mean anything,” Gibbs says shortly. “It’s just a dog.”

Kate thinks of the sadness in Echo’s brown eyes and wishes she could be so sure.

 

* * *

 

Abby’s lab is silent. Kate feels the familiar foreboding that comes when Abby switches her music off and hesitates at the entrance. DiNozzo stops next to her and they have a silent, furious scuffle over who goes in first, which she wins by gripping the door frame firmly and using it as leverage to shove him through.

Abby spots them and bolts over. “Kate! Thank god, you’re here! I need hair from you both. Now!” Kate and Tony blink at her, Tony raising one eyebrow in a Gibbs-like fashion.

“You can do a lot of sneaky stuff with someone’s hair,” Tony says finally. “I don’t actually know if I…” Abby ignores him, reaching up and snipping a lock from behind his ear before he can jerk away from the scissors. “Abby! What the hell?”

Kate sees the witch turn towards her with a determined expression and reaches out for the scissors defensively. “I’ll do it, Abs. Let me do it.” She hands her the lock of hair and follows her curiously to the shelf that Abby has cleared against one wall, noting with interest the intricate runes that have been carefully painted onto it in a dark ink. Seven circles, all carefully linked.

“You know, protection circles don’t always work,” Tony says quietly, coming up behind them. “They’re hedge-witch stuff, Abs. It’s mostly mind tricks and herb lore.”

Kate examines the circles closer, noting the items carefully placed into each circle. An old cap with NIS emblazoned on the front with a lock of grey fur carefully placed in the centre—and, one day, she’s going to have to ask how Abby got a chunk of Gibbs’ fur—, a Mighty Mouse stapler in another, a pen she recognizes from autopsy… “Are those Palmer’s glasses? Doesn’t he need those to, you know, see?”

Abby frowns, biting at her lip. “Yes, and yes. But he doesn’t deserve to see.”

Kate almost laughs at the stubborn expression on Abby’s face, until she sees tears brimming in her green eyes. Just like that, she’s thinking about Echo and what those barks mean—like she’s been doing anything other than looking up the Cù Sìth and just how much shit she’s in.

“Abby, it’s a myth, don’t be mad at Palmer,” Kate says. “Echo barking at me doesn’t mean anything, she’s not even full-blooded Cù Sìth.”

“Besides,” Tony says with a grin, reaching over and tugging one of Abby’s pig-tails, “I was standing right behind Kate, and I heard it too. She was probably barking at me.”

Kate stares at Tony. “You heard it too?”

Why hadn’t he told her sooner? She’d thought she was going _nuts_ , after everyone there had said all they’d heard was the growling, and then Kate had fainted.

“Sure,” is Tony’s careless answer. “Told you, Kate. My hearing is great and she was _right_ there—of course I heard it. So, you’re off the hook, Katie. It’s me she’s after.”

This time, when Abby bursts into noisy sobs, Kate lets Tony deal with it. After all, had he really thought that that would help?

 

* * *

 

That’s what’s looming in her mind during an undercover operation with Tony stuck with a man they now know to be a damn _murderer_ goes wrong, Tony going dark on them. All Kate can think about is those barks—wondering if Tony had seen the same foggy path as she’d seen, and regretting having never asked him about it.

“You’re worried,” she says to Gibbs to distract herself, watching his fingers flex around the steering wheel. They’re driving fast, her own fingers wrapped tight around the handle above to stop from being battered about on every turn, desperate to find Tony before it’s him getting his throat cut.

“About what?”

“Tony. You are. I can tell.”

He glares at her with pale eyes, fingers stilling. “I’m worried about the job, Kate. Don’t confuse the two.” He hesitates. Looks at her again. “You alright?”

“ _I’m_ worried about Tony,” she admits, glancing at the time on her phone. Tony has been chained to Jeffrey for over twenty-four hours now. Of _course,_ she’s worried, there’s so many things that can go wrong. That have gone wrong.

_She could have been barking at me_ , whispers Tony in her mind again. _I heard it too._ She pushes the echo to the back of her mind, firmly refusing to dwell on it.

“You worried about anything else?” Gibbs says in a probing tone. She scowls. The last thing they need now is Gibbs splitting his attention between her and the case.

“Just Tony,” she lies. At home, there’s unfinished paperwork on her desk. A letter for her parents. Letters for her brothers and sister. A new will. Not because she thinks she’s going to die, because she doesn’t, but just… in case.

Gibbs studies her again, before nodding. “Alright.” She knows that’s the end of it, for now at least, because Gibbs’ cell rings loudly, breaking the tense silence. “Yeah, McGee?”

They’ve got a trace on Tony.

 

* * *

 

She can see Tony’s car parked ahead. There’s blood all over the windows and a still figure in the front seat. She ignores the fear that thunders through her and threatens to unsteady her gun. Instead, she shouts, “Step away from the car! Hands in the air!”

The figure doesn’t move and she hears the echo of the barks again, Tony’s voice joking, _she was probably barking at me._ Hell, no, she wasn’t, she thinks furiously to herself, turning her fear into anger. If DiNozzo’s gone and got himself killed, she’s going to set every one of his damned precious suits on fire. Then, when he comes back to haunt her for burning his clothes, she’s going to give him to Gibbs for his shot.

Then, if she still isn’t satisfied, she’s going to give him to Abby.

Gibbs moves swiftly towards the car, his stride turning long and loping, the wolf showing through like it always does when he’s stressed. She watches, gun trained carefully on the figure, as her boss circles the car and tugs the door open. The figure turns its head slowly towards Gibbs and speaks in a soft voice, “I really liked him.”

Kate moves around, just in time to see Gibbs raises an eyebrow at Tony and tilt his head down to look at the bloodied body in the back seat. Their murderer, dead, and she’s pretty sure she knows how and is grossly fascinated. “I can see that,” Gibbs says gently, glancing at her and shaking his head in a clear message— _stay back_.

For a second, just a second, they’re uncertain as Tony slips from the car and stands, his eyes black and his expression blank. Then, he smiles and shrugs, and he’s Tony again, just Tony and nothing more frightening. She meets his eyes with a scowl. “You idiot,” she scolds him. He smiles wanly at her, eyes tired, and she reaches up and wipes a streak of crimson from the corner of his mouth, ignoring the hungry look that darts across his face at the touch.

This doesn’t change anything, she thinks firmly. None of this changes _anything._


	16. Kate and the Calm Before

A shadow loom over Kate and she looks up to see Abby hovering with a shell-shocked expression. Kate twitches her nose, noting the acrid scent pervading the air about them. The festive bobble on Abby’s red hat smoulders gently, leaving a smattering of white ash on her shoulder.

“Something the matter, Abby?” Gibbs asks, frowning at her from over his monitor. “You set something on fire again?” Kate sees Tony sit up in his chair, smirking. She swears silently. She’d stupidly put money on flooding being the next Abby disaster, assuming that the witch couldn’t possibly set the lab on fire twice in one month. Tony is going to be _impossible_ to work with if he wins this bet.

Abby opens and closes her mouth several times, eventually just shrugging and trying to stop a wide grin from showing on her face. Kate is forcibly reminded of her brothers one Christmas when they’d received a gaming console they’d all wanted, overcome with excitement so fiercely that they couldn’t even speak to say thank you.

“I did it,” Abby whispers, as though she’s having trouble coming to terms with whatever it is she’s done herself. Kate shares a concerned glance with Tony, both hesitant to ask what exactly she’s managed to do and neither willing to admit defeat just yet. With Abby, it could be anything. “I did it!” She bounces a few times, green eyes wide, voice rising in pitch. Out the corner of her eye, Kate sees Gibbs rise carefully to his feet and approach Abby the way they’d approach a snarling dog: warily and with an escape plan.

“Gibbs!” someone shouts in a panic, and Palmer dives into view, narrowly avoiding hurtling into a harried temp by extending his wings and skidding out of the way. Kate grabs her coffee just in time as the panicking gremlin overshoots his mark and almost crashes through her desk, sending pens clattering across the floor, wings flapping awkwardly to keep his balance.

She thinks to herself that they’ve never seen Palmer use his wings before, and this is probably why.

“Abby! Gibbs!” he shouts again, stumbling to his feet and shoving the glasses he’d been holding in his hand back onto his nose. “I was going to forensics, Ducky sent me there, to deliver these files and I heard a noise and then I know I’m not supposed to go past the line, but I didn’t know what the noise was so I—”

“Oh, it’s just Bert,” Abby interrupts, beaming.

Palmer blinks, looking from Abby to their boss. “Oh. Yeah. There’s a, um, a little… hippo. Thing. In forensics.”

“You animated Bert?” Tim exclaims, jumping up from his chair with a delighted smile. “How? When? What did you use? Is it permanent?”

Gibbs rubs the bridge of his nose as though trying to fend off a headache, and Kate sympathizes with the exasperation on his face. “Abby, is he loose in your lab?”

Abby looks guilty. “Not really. Well, kind of. I had him in a warded circle so he didn’t eat anything, but, um… it washed away. When the sprinklers went off.”

Gibbs raises an eyebrow. “Sprinklers.”

Oh. Maybe Kate is going to win this one after all. Tony wilts a little.

“Oh… err. I guess, maybe, there was a… little fire.”

Kate drops her head into her hands with a groan as Tony makes a triumphant sound.

 

* * *

 

Bert-the-now-alive-hippo is trying to eat her shoes.

Well, not trying, really, because—as Ducky so happily informs her—even a miniature hippo has enough crushing force in its jaws to pulverise the bones in her feet, if given the chance. Abby assures her that Bert’s just playing at eating her footwear, but she sits on the autopsy table anyway and gingerly lifts her feet up so the tiny, rotund mammal can’t reach.

Tony, however, sits on the floor and happily scratches behind the beast’s ears. “This is so cool. You think you could do this again? I bet McGoo has a couple of girlfriends in his closet he wouldn’t mind putting a little life into, if you know what I mean.”

“Tony, ew,” Abby says, pulling a disgusted face. “I’m not actually sure what I did. I mean, I know what I meant to do, but what I actually did wasn’t what I meant to do, it was a completely different thing. Magic is wiggly, you know. Not like science. Sometimes things go hinky.”

Gibbs squints disapprovingly at her. “You might want to work it out, Abby, because the director is going to want a report on why one of the walls in the lab needs new paintwork.”

“For the second time this month,” Tony adds in happily. Kate rolls her eyes at him, still sour that he’d swindled her out of fifty bucks.

“On a related subject, Abigail, where are you going to put young Mr. Bert now that you’ve successfully animated him?” Ducky asks, exiting his office with an armful of brightly wrapped packages. “Hippopotami are semi-aquatic creatures with large appetites and terrible tempers. Not really a companion suited to apartment, or lab, life.”

“I’ll think of something.” Abby peers at the gifts in Ducky’s arms. “Present time!” Out of nowhere, a pile of bobbly hats appears on the table next to Kate, each one wrapped with bows decorated in smiling cats.

“Oh fantastic,” Tony crows, reaching up and grabbing a red woollen hat festively decorated with fangs. “Annual Christmas hats!” Kate chokes back a laugh at the sight of her partner grinning at her from under the ridiculous hat, ear-flaps and all. “Don’t laugh, Kate. Looks like you got one too.” One of the hats lifts into the air and drops into her lap, baby blue with snowflakes. It’s nowhere near as ridiculous as Tony’s.

She loves it.

“Aww, Abby, thank you,” she gushes, pulling it on. “I didn’t know you could knit.”

Abby shrugs, sending a green and black hat with code all over it floating over to McGee, who looks charmed and emotional all at once at the gesture. “I can’t. I just made a spell-sequence to do it for me. The nuns I bowl with helped. When I tried to do it, I ended up with a never-ending scarf and seven left socks.”

“Yes, well, I’m afraid I only bought everyone books,” Ducky adds in from under his own hat, complete with a bell on the top. Kate chokes with laughter at the ducks on his knitted cap, each one holding a scalpel in one wing and smiling creepily. “With everything we’ve been through this year, I figured you all could take some time to yourselves and sit down with a good book, since we’re not working this Christmas, for once.”

Kate slips off the table and cautiously makes her way around the snuffling Bert to kiss Ducky on his cheek. “Thank you, Ducky,” she says quietly. “It’s exactly what we need.”

Gibbs walks in, face grim under a sensible tan woollen hat. “Get your gear, we’ve got a dead naval officer.”

“But I have a plane to catch tomorrow,” Kate groans. “I’m going home for Christmas, Gibbs.”

“Better solve it fast then, Kate.” He turns and walks out as abruptly as he’d arrived.

“How come his hat is plain?” Tony grumbles, standing and brushing his pants off. “That’s no fun.”

Abby touches Kate’s arm as she glumly follows her two partners out of the morgue. When Kate looks at her curiously, she winks. “It’s reversible. There’s boats on the inside.”

Kate doesn’t even try to hold back her laugh this time.

 

* * *

 

They solve the case in record time and, when Kate finally finishes her report and goes to pick up her bag off her desk, she finds a tiny wooden wolf sitting near her keyboard. She picks it up, feeling the smooth grain of the wood, noting the tiny details painstakingly chiselled out, and slips it into her pocket with a smile.

Tony has already bolted out the door, leaving his gift for her tucked in her bag—a large framed print of her wet T-shirt contest. Ass. She shoves it back into her bag before McGee can see it, face burning, and spends the entire drive home contemplating various ways to kill her partner.

She’s going through her bag later that night to find her charger to pack for her trip when she knocks it to the ground, flinching at the clatter it makes. It might be a stupid gift, but she’d still hate to have broken it. When she picks it up, she finds two tickets to a showing of _Phantom of the Opera_ tucked into the back with a note in Tony’s handwriting saying, “Abby loves the opera too,” and ended with a winking face.

She thinks that, maybe this time, she’ll forgive him.

 

* * *

 

She coos over her new nephew, admires her older niece’s dress, and exchanges small talk with her brothers’ various wives and girlfriends. Even doing everything she is expected to do, the atmosphere around her parents’ home is tense and she has a fair feeling that she’s the reason.

Conversation stalls at dinner as she picks at her mother’s delicious roast, her sister chattering away about her new position as a psychiatrist’s assistant, fresh out of college.

“Glad to hear your job is successful,” their father states, and they all pick up on the things left unsaid, cautious glances aimed at the head of the table. “We’re all very proud of you, a sensible career choice.”

Rachel pauses in her chattering, gaze flickering from their father to Kate.

Kate tries to save the conversation. “My job is going fantastic as well, it’s much more challenging than the Secret Service. My boss is a bit of a task-master though, he—”

“Your boss the werewolf?” her middle brother Peter asks, and there’s a hint of derision in his voice. “What’s it like working for a dog?”

“Isn’t there a vampire there as well?” one of the girlfriends asks, eyes widening stupidly. Kate glares at her. She can never remember the names of her youngest brother’s girlfriends, and they’re all as simpering as the next. “They shouldn’t have the right to work for our government, they need to know where they stand.”

“And where do they stand?” Kate hisses through clenched teeth. She hadn’t forgotten that people outside of the larger cities tend to react to magical beings like this, she just hasn’t been exposed to it for a while. Their bigotry doesn’t stop them from buying charmed trinkets to make their lives easier or going to magical doctors or dentists… and it’s then that she jolts, remembering her own distrust of Tony in the beginning. But, she changed.

Her damn family is never going to change, she thinks furiously seeing her mother trying to focus intently on her food and ignoring the argument brewing.

“You know,” the girl continues foolishly, “if you give them power over humans, they start thinking that maybe they can take over, with their magic. They don’t have souls, not like us, they’re not even allowed in our church. How can creatures like that have any sort of moral standing?”

Kate drops her fork with a clatter and opens her mouth to tell this girl exactly where to shove her opinion, when an unexpected voice pipes up. “That’s fucking stupid,” Rachel says indignantly, glaring at Roy’s girlfriend. “Are you a racist or just an idiot? Roy, where the hell do you find these women? The local American Dogmatists rally?”

“Rachel, don’t talk like that,” their mother scolds, looking shocked that it’s Rachel who’d ended up causing chaos first. Normally, it’s Kate who rises to her brothers’ baiting and ends up cussing them out.

“I’m an adult, Mom, and I’ll damn well talk to him how I please if he’s going to talk ridiculous like this,” Rachel bites back, face in a mulish expression Kate has only ever seen in the mirror before. “They’re going to have to get used to the way the world is now. It’s not going to stop changing because of their close-minded ways.”

“She’s right,” Kate’s oldest brother, Sam, says quietly from his seat next to Kate. “I don’t want that kind of prejudice around my family please, Roy. Kate, how is work? Do you like your team?”

Kate looks at her brother and feels an odd sort of affection for him. Guess she’s wrong. Maybe her family _can_ change.

She forces a smile and tells him about Abby.

He knocks on the door of her room that night and sticks his head in looking uncomfortable when she says, “Yeah,” in response. She curious but unsure, not really close enough to him to tell what he’s thinking. He’d been too old to join in on the hazing she’d suffered at the hands of her other two brothers, always out with his friends or off at college while she’d been growing up.

“Hey, Kate. We’re heading home, thought I’d say goodbye,” he says, shuffling his feet awkwardly. “Since it will probably be months until we see each other again.”

“We’ll have to catch up more often, hey?” Kate asks. “Your kids keep getting bigger. I can’t keep up.”

He shrugs. “You’re busy, I’m busy, that’s just life. We’ll see each other when we can. Hey, I wanted to say, about earlier…”

Kate is shaking her head before he even finishes. “It’s fine, Sam. Roy’s always been a tool. He was just trying to get a rise outta me.”

Her brother looks thoughtful. “Nah, they worry about you, you know. You see things on the news, about magical attacks and terrorists and, for most families, that’s really far away stuff. Things that happen to other people. But you’re there, in the thick of it, and that’s all they see when they think of you.”

She’s never quite thought of it that way. “My team is the best. We keep each other safe.” She slips her hand in her pocket, running her thumb over the wooden wolf. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

He smiles crookedly at her, a smile she’d cherished when she’d been a little girl who idolized her big brother. “Of course, I do. That’s what big brothers are for, to worry about their little sisters. Promise me you’ll be careful, I do love you, you know.”

Kate hugs him tightly, his arms reassuring. “I promise. I love you too.”


	17. Kate and the Kelpie

The shrill, polyphonic sound of her cell ringing wakes her from a blissful sleep after an exhausting week. Kate groans, rolling over and slitting one eye open, glaring at the flickering light emitting from her cell. She doesn’t really need this job that much, does she?

It had been such a good dream too, even if the details elude her now…

“Todd,” she grumbles into the phone, fumbling for her lamp.

“Get up. I’m coming to get you.” Gibbs sounds the same as he always does. Cranky. Maybe a little more tense than usual.

“We got a dead marine?” she says, which is usually how these kinds of days start.

Not this one.

“Ducky’s been attacked.”

She’s dressed and ready in record time.

 

* * *

 

Ducky’s house is pretty much how she’s always imagined it to be, old-fashioned and beautiful. The sprawling gardens are stunning, even at night, and starlight glitters off a large, natural-looking lake that flows right up to the side of the house. It’s idyllic, except for the flashing lights of the police cruisers stationed by the gates.

As Kate follows Gibbs up the white-gravelled drive, she amends that thought further. The police cars—and the swathes of blood painted across the driveway.

“Is that Ducky’s blood?” she asks, horrified and staring at the scene. Something had clearly put up a godawful fight to survive, and lost.

“Fortunately, no,” Ducky says, stepping out of his home with two officers close behind. “Jethro, would you please tell these gentlemen that they are unneeded? I absolutely cannot have them wandering the grounds, Mother is in far too delicate a state.”

“Whose blood is it, Duck?” Gibbs asks. He flashes his badge at the cops and waves them away, ignoring their protest.

“Most of it is poor Tyson’s,” Ducky replies, frowning at the splatters. Kate winces for the fate of the corgi named. “He must have been outside when whatever it was got hold of him. The squealing he made! Some of it is quite possibly the infernal beast’s blood, the dogs gave it quite a licking before I could get outside.”

“Is anyone hurt?” Kate can see a still form a few feet off the drive, one of Ducky’s corgis. Two more—alive ones—peer out from the front door, their button eyes sharp and cold.

“Aside from two of my mother’s dogs, no. We were able to chase whatever it was off thanks to…” Ducky’s eyes flicker to the grim-faced police, then back to Gibbs. “Well, thanks to the hounds.”

Kate knows that look. Somehow, she doubts the corgis, no matter how ferocious Ducky professes those to be, drove away whatever it was that attacked them. She bets that if she examines the turf near where the dog’s body lies, she’ll find paw prints ten times the size of the small dogs’.

Gibbs waves the police away and watches them leave as Tony and McGee arrive, hurrying up the drive. Tony looks around, excited at finally being able to see Ducky’s house. “Nice place you’ve got here, Doc,” he says. “Aw look, you even have a duck-pond. Prime bit of real estate!” Kate punches him as soon as he’s close enough, and he makes an undignified noise at her. “I mean, what have we got, Boss?”

“Protection detail,” Gibbs snaps. “You’re staying here with Mrs. Mallard and Fornell. Kate, we’re taking Ducky back to NCIS.”

“Back to NCIS?” Kate questions, at the same time that Ducky cuts in with a harried, “Oh _, Jethro,_ that’s unnecessary. Mother won’t stand for it!”

“Where is Fornell?” Tony asks quietly, looking about and squinting at the body on the lawn. “He shrunk?”

“Show some respect to the deceased, Anthony, even canine,” Ducky warns him. Kate hears a soft huff nearby, and Fornell slinks out from the shadows of the garden, his ears flat against his skull. She can see dark splatters on his chest and jaw, contrasting with the glint of his bared teeth.

“Whatever it is, it’s injured,” she points out, Gibbs nodding his assent.

“Gather your fallen, Duck,” he states briskly. “They’re coming with us.”

“You’re taking the dogs?” McGee looks confused.

“Only the dead ones, McGee.”

 

* * *

 

It’s the oddest autopsy that Kate’s ever witnessed, the two dogs carefully laid out on the gleaming steel table. “It’s always hard, when it’s someone you know,” Palmer states, standing to the side and looking despairing. “It really makes you question your own mortality.”

“Yes, well, I should think perhaps I have a better life expectancy than a corgi, Mr. Palmer.” Ducky leans over the dog’s body, frowning as he makes the first incision.

“Oh, I should hope so, Doctor, but I can’t imagine if it was Echo…” Jimmy trails off, glancing at Kate and dropping his gaze. Kate ignores him, and the hard lump that forms in her stomach every time she thinks of his dog.

“Hello!” Ducky exclaims, widening his eyes slightly. “No blood.”

“Well, blood ceases to flow after the patient has expired,” Palmer begins to explain, before stopping himself. “But you know that, of course. No blood?”

Kate looks away, unwilling to peer into the depths of the dog.

“He’s been exsanguinated, completely drained of blood,” Ducky points out. “Good lord, the poor thing must have been in absolute agony. No wonder he cried out such as he did.”

“The other is the same?” Kate asks him. “What could have done this?”

“No, it looks like poor Colleen was fatally injured in the ensuing fight, Tyson doesn’t appear to have any wounds that could have drained him like this.”

“A vampire?” Palmer asks, looking about nervously as though saying the word would summon Tony from thin air.

“I seriously doubt a vampire would have stopped to drain a dog, Mr. Palmer. Nor would it leave bite marks like the ones on Colleen’s flank and neck. Honestly, of all the things to suggest.”

“What else drains its victims of blood?” Kate pities Palmer, the first thing that had popped into her head had been vampire as well. Not that she’d ever admit it to Tony.

“I haven’t the foggiest.” Ducky scrubs the back of his hand over his forehead, looking thoughtful. “Nothing native to this area, at least.”

Palmer hops up onto the stool placed at the table for him to see with, and leans forward, bracing himself with one arm. “Can you turn him over? Part the fur at the base of his head, near the spine?” Ducky does so, carefully supporting the sad form as Palmer peers closer. “Right there, see those marks?”

Kate inches forward and looks closely. The triangular mark is swollen, three puncture wounds in the centre of a cruel looking bruise. “What on earth causes a bite like that?”

Palmer is actually wiggling in excitement, glasses slipping off his nose. “One thing! I mean, you’re not going to like it, and Gibbs is certainly not going to like it, and Abby is going to love it. It’s absolutely ridiculous, but I read this book once and they had pictures just like this, even though there hasn’t been a sighting in years!” Ducky makes a soft noise which indicates even the genial doctor is running out of patience, and Jimmy manages to stop from chattering, looking shamefaced. “You’re really not going to like this, Doctor Mallard, but I think it was a Chupacabra.”

 

* * *

 

“You’re at Ducky’s tonight,” Gibbs instructs her. “Take over from McGee at the end of his shift.”

She nods, asking, “Do you think they’ll come back?”

It’s Tony that answers. “They changed their MO. If they’re that desperate to take Ducky out that they smuggled critically-endangered, blood-sucking monsters over the border to do it, then we’re reaching end game.”

“Why Ducky? Why now?” Kate swallows, trying to hide her nerves. “It’s been months since they’ve done anything, what are they planning?” She doesn’t even need to ask, not really. If whoever has been targeting them this whole time is finally ready for their last stand, then any chance to destabilize the team would have been leapt at.

“They probably thought Ducky was a soft target,” Tony says thoughtfully.

Gibbs snorts. “If that’s your guess, then you’re less of an investigator than I thought, DiNozzo. Try the opposite.”

Tony fakes a hurt expression, but she can see his mind working busily. Kate’s does too, and they reach the same conclusion at once:

You don’t damage a building from the top floor down, you go from the foundation up.

The strongest part first.

 

* * *

 

“Are you scared, Ducky?” she asks him on the drive home. His fingers grip the wheel tightly, knuckles white and face chalky.

“Madame Curie, one of the world’s most brilliant thinkers, once said, ‘There is nothing in life to be feared. It is only to be understood.’ I think it’s safe to say that Madame Curie never had mythological blood-suckers sent after her in the night.” He glances at Kate, mouth pulled into an unhappy frown. “Yes, I’m scared. Scared as hell. I don’t want you to be caught in the crossfire, Caitlin.”

“I’m already in the crossfire,” she points out. “They’re not going to get you.”

Ducky smiles, the expression clearing the stress from his face. “There is only one thing better than looking into the eyes of a beautiful woman and have her say that everything is going to be alright.”

“And what’s that?”

“My saying it to her.”

 

* * *

 

Ducky is dozing on his chair. Fornell has finally stopped hovering and gone to bed, not having slept since the events of the previous night, and Mrs. Mallard is safely asleep. It’s one of the most peaceful protection details Kate has ever had the pleasure of attending. She’s peeking out between the curtains, sweeping her gaze along the expanse of the lawn, when a yap sounds from the backyard. It’s followed by the sound of the back-door unlocking, and she curses quietly. She hadn’t even heard Mrs. Mallard getting up…

Her weapon is already out as Kate follows the elderly woman outside, finding her quickly. Her white nightgown shows up clearly against the gloom of the night and she’s standing by the side of the lake, watching one of the dogs pace in a jittering semicircle in front of her.

“Mrs. Mallard?” Kate calls softly, glancing back over her shoulder at the warm, inviting light emitted from the open backdoor. “Mrs. Mallard?” Her breath fogs in front of her, the night air chilly. Ducky’s mother turns her head and looks back at her haughtily.

“Sneaking off after having your fun—just as I knew you would,” she says, eyes narrowed. Kate counts to five in her head. It’s no wonder Ducky has so much patience. It must be hard to watch the once brilliant woman’s deterioration.

“No, it’s not like that, Mrs. Mallard. Now, please, I need you to take your dog and go back inside.” The dog raises its head, moonlight casting a strange pallor on its skin. Kate frowns, raising her gun and taking a few steps to the side, trying and failing to see the dog clearly.

“Oh, I can’t do that,” Mrs. Mallard states coldly, imitating her steps and blocking her view. “You see, that’s not my dog.”

Kate has the gun up in seconds as the dog opens its mouth and coughs out a rattling shriek before charging, back humped strangely. Mrs. Mallard steps effortlessly out of the way, the lake swirling around her feet and submerging her instantly as her form slides smoothly into the water. Kate watches in shock as the water withdraws with a strange, sucking sound, before rushing forward once more and dragging the shrieking creature into its depths, surface bubbling menacingly.

The sound of glass shattering from the front of the house catches her attention and she whirls, sprinting around the outer wall with her gun held ready. “Stay in the lake!” she shouts back to Mrs. Mallard, hoping that the woman has heard her and understood.

There’s a man in the front yard, one of the hellish beasts by his heels. He turns to face Kate with a mocking laugh, dark light glittering around his hands. Mage, she thinks desperately, before throwing herself to the ground to avoid the shadows that lash out at her from his palm. Something leaps over her head, hitting the gravel with a solid thump and roaring as it lunges.

She raises her head and has a split-second image of Fornell on his hind legs. He’s snapping viciously at the mage’s throat but, before she can shout to him, something grabs her leg with crushing force and drags her backwards on her belly into the tree line. She snatches at the grass helplessly trying to slow her movement, kicking out with her free leg and feeling it connect against the creature’s skull with the satisfying feeling of bone shifting beneath her boot. There’s the sound of a shot and an animalistic screaming that she hopes desperately isn’t coming from Tobias, but her attention is solely on trying to get her gun around to shoot whatever is crunching down on her ankle.

She twists, ignoring the agonising ripping sensation in her leg that accompanies the movement, and puts the creature in her sights. It snarls at her: a scaly dog-like beast with a ridge of spines along its back that it raises and rattles at her like a normal dog would its hackles.

Twice, she fires, both bullets hitting the beast in the chest. It ignores the wounds, long tail lashing as it releases its grip on her leg and plunges forward at her throat.

The next few moments are a blur of action as the ground shudders under her. Something slams into the beast with bone-shattering force, sending it sprawling. She almost gets a hoof to the head as her saviour gallops over her, lashing out with strangely cloven hooves. It squeals furiously with every strike.

The beast is dead by the second kick, head splintered by the immense force behind the strike.

Kate tries to drag herself up, hands sweaty on the gun and spitting out dirt as the creature that had saved her turns to face her. The familiar equine form is marred by the sharp teeth she can see in its panting mouth and the jagged fins that jut out from the rear of the long legs. A kelpie, she realises—a carnivorous water-horse, just as murderous as the dead Chupacabra at her feet. Whatever moment that passes between them passes fast, as they’re interrupted by their would-be assassins.

Something dark flickers over them and wraps around the horse-creature, cutting cruelly into its flesh and pulling it down. It shrieks in pain and falls heavily onto its front knees, writhing against the bindings with the whites of its eyes showing starkly against its gleaming, black coat. She doesn’t waver, just turns on her good leg and places two bullets square into the mage’s head, dropping him instantly.

When she turns back, Ducky is on his knees on the ground in front of her, panting. He’s bleeding copiously from where the spell cut him, watching her with grave eyes. “Good shot,” he wheezes, staggering to his feet. “Take my arm, we have to get back to the house. I think Tobias may have taken an injury and I must see to him immediately.”

If she hesitates before taking his arm, he does her the courtesy of pretending not to see.


	18. Kate and the Final Days

The atmosphere in the squad room is oppressive. Kate is sitting at her desk, leg carefully straightened in front of her with her pants tight around the bulky bandage Ducky had applied.

“I would be happier if this was stitched, Caitlin,” he’d told her sternly.

“It doesn’t hurt that much,” she had replied, peering down at the long wounds. They’d seemed shallow… ish. And they hadn’t hurt, until Ducky had raised an eyebrow at her before lifting his palm away from her leg.

Oh. Yeah. Then it had hurt. Ducky was a Tylenol with a British accent.

The silent clusters of agents and personnel all raise their heads to look up at the staircase, where Director Morrow stands with his hands on the bannister. He wears an expression carved of stone. Gibbs stands a few paces behind him, hands in his pockets, completely still. Kate wonders if Gibbs is aware that when he’s tense, he holds himself like a hunting wolf.

A hunting wolf blends into the shadows by standing motionless, observing its prey.

“For months now, our agency has been the target of a series of attacks aimed to sow fear and dissention among our ranks.” Morrow speaks calmly, his voice resonating across the room. No one talks, no one moves. No one so much as coughs. It’s electric. “What makes NCIS great, what makes America great, is the partnership between humans, magic users, and immortal beings alike. We share one goal: to keep our homes and families safe. These people threaten that goal, and they do so by trying to prove that magic and mundane cannot co-exist. Today, we prove them wrong.”

Gibbs steps forward, blue eyes fierce. “Last night, they attacked my people. Our people. We protect our own. Everyone in this room now has one job. Bring them in.”

A ripple of activity spreads through the room as the silent crowd stirs back to life, a low growl of assent ending Gibbs’ short announcement.

Tony leans down near Kate’s ear. “Ooo-rah,” he murmurs softly.

 

* * *

 

“How’s Fornell?” McGee asks Gibbs as he strides into the pen, his face determined. Kate flinches, hearing again the scream as the bullet had torn through him. They’d come prepared. The silver in the bullet had been murderously effective at downing the wolf, coming very close to killing him. She closes her eyes, remembering with sore clarity the thrill of the night before and the race to save Fornell’s life.

“Bag in the bathroom, Caitlin, now,” Ducky had barked. “We need to remove the bullet before it has time to get into his bloodstream.”

“Will that save him?” Fornell had still been a wolf, Ducky holding his head on the floor with his tongue lolling out of his muzzle as his eyes rolled in silent agony.

“Not if we don’t do it now!”

She opens her eyes.

“Still breathing,” Gibbs replies shortly. “Something that Ari will not be doing by the end of today.”

“There’s no proof it was Ari, Gibbs,” Kate says, seeing the light of obsession on his features again.

“Actually,” McGee cuts in, standing and fiddling with the plasma. “That’s not entirely true.” A map of the city flashes up onto the screen, shaded over except for one circular area.

“What are we looking at, McGee?”

“A black spot. Of a sort. The dead mage that Kate shot, this is everywhere his cell has pinged.” McGee steps up, points at the circular space. “There are other towers that the phone hasn’t communicated with, but this one is right in the centre of most of his activity.”

“So, he avoids that part of town,” DiNozzo throws a stress ball in the air and catches it with one hand without looking, eyes locked on McGee. “All that means is he probably has a nasty ex in the area.” Kate wonders how much he’d practised that trick in order to show off.

“Or he turns his phone off before he meets with his bosses.” Gibbs manages to look both cranky and pleased simultaneously. “Good work, McGee.”

“That’s still a lot of miles to cover,” Kate points out, rubbing at her leg. The bite itches under the bandage. The stress ball smacks into her hand with a thunk, almost startling her out of the chair. “Tony! What the hell?”

“Payback’s a bitch,” he smirks. “You’ll loosen it.” His impression of her voice is as uncanny as it is oddly accurate.

“Can it, DiNozzo, before I can you. Narrow it down, McGee.”

“I can help with that,” Abby cheerfully announces, skipping into the pen. “Our dead buddy downstairs—good shot by the way, Kate—is a _very_ dirty boy.” Gibbs turns his gaze onto Abby, glare increasing in force. Abby smiles back at him, immune to the glare, but quickly continues. “His clothes are dirty, anyway. Filth, dirt, oil, traces of paint. Pretty much what you’d expect to find on a man living on the street. But that’s not the best bit!” Abby pauses for suspense, grin widening. “The paint is old. As in, old enough to still contain lead. Lead which has been outlawed since…”

“1978,” McGee states, looking down at his computer with light glittering by his palm. Kate blinks, startled by the sight of their probie so openly using his magic. “There’s five warehouses in the area built before 1978, three of them in a cluster. Ah.” His eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. “Sir, I’ve been running a check for Ari’s phone in the background, just in case, and it just turned on.”

“Where?” Gibbs is hyper-focused, homing in on his target. A red cross appears, bang in the middle of the blank space. “That it?” McGee nods. “Kate call the director, let him know where we’re going.” Gibbs is moving quickly, ripping open his drawer and grabbing his gun. “Get them to pull thermal imaging up on MTAC, guide us in. McGee, DiNozzo, gear up.”

“You’re benching me?” Kate exclaims, standing up quickly. Pain shoots up her injured leg and she flinches, groaning inwardly when she realises Gibbs has seen the moment of weakness.

Gibbs stops in front of her, face inches from hers and eyes intense. “I need you here, Agent Todd. You’ve done your part.”

There’s a moment when she could argue, plead her case, but she lets it pass. “Yes, sir.”

 

* * *

 

“Talk dirty to me, Kate,” Tony purrs. Kate closes her eyes for a moment, seeing the heads of the MTAC personnel turning in unison to give her odd looks.

The second voice is a growl. “ _DiNozzo_.”

“Sorry, Boss. What are we looking at, Kate?”

Kate rolls her eyes and studies the screens in front of her. “Seven unknown lifeforms inside: three to the west, one in an upper level, two to the north and one east-side.”

Gibbs’ impatience is catching. “Human?”

Kate signals the woman at the control panel, who taps out a command switching the thermal imaging to one suited to picking up spell-work. “Looks like it. We’ve got a few spells in the framework, looks like fire and pest charms, but nothing else. The unknowns are clear.”

Kate watches their teams moving in, one team for each of the three entrances. “Were’s?” Tony asks through his earwig. “They won’t show up on the spell-imaging.”

Back to thermal imaging and Kate looks at the north entrance team, two of the personal glowing brightly compared to the rest of the team. “They run hot, DiNozzo. Gibbs is on the north team, with another were’.”

Gibbs’ chuckle is low in her ear. “Where’s—”

The feed crackles and snaps, leaving them in silence. “Gibbs? Gibbs?” Kate looks around at the personnel, who shrug and start typing furiously. “DiNozzo? McGee? Where are they?”

“The feed is being jammed, Agent Todd,” one of the personnel says, her voice tight. “We can’t reach them.”

She pulls her cell out, hitting Gibbs’ speed-dial. It rings out, sending a chill into the base of her spine. Oh shit, oh shit, she thinks. _Answer your phone, DiNozzo._ The phone beeps, losing signal. She tries McGee, same result.

Ari’s cell phone signal had led them to the warehouse. They’d gone without question, driven by desperation and hell bent on revenge.

She clicks.

He’s been playing them this whole time. Months and months of slowly increasing pressure until they’d acted irrationally and walked straight into his arms. Ari’s cell signal at the warehouse… but no shifters on the imaging, running just as hot as a were-creature would.

Bait. Human bait. Expendable for a cause.

Kate closes her eyes for a moment and sees the leopard snarling at her with cruel fangs and laughing, green eyes.

Ripping off the headset she bolts for the door, ignoring the pain in her leg, ignoring the startled looks of her co-workers as she flees down the staircase and runs for her desk.

“Agent Todd?” Balboa calls from his seat in the bullpen, half standing. She sees Abby and Palmer by Gibbs’ desk, straightening to stare at her grabbing her gun and keys, before she turns to sprint away.

“It’s a trap!” she calls back over her shoulder, slamming her hand on the elevator button and tapping obsessively at the ground floor symbol as she dives in. A hand catches the door, holding it long enough for someone to slide in and look up at her with wide eyes. “What the hell are you doing?” she asks Palmer as the elevator descends way too slowly for the adrenaline racing through her body.

He runs a shaking hand through his hair, shrugging up at her. “Damned if I know. I didn’t really think this through. I’m assuming you’re going to warn Gibbs, which means you can’t go alone, it’s dangerous, which means it’s, well, me or Abby.”

Jesus, she thinks. This is the last thing she needs. “Stay in the car, got it?”

Palmer nods furiously. “Stay in the car. Of course. Can do.”

 

* * *

 

She barely gives herself time to stop the car before she’s leaping out, eyes scanning the area. Three warehouses grouped together connected by narrow alleys. Would they have waited to re-establish communications before going in? If they had, they’d be here.

If they didn’t, they could be dead.

There’s no gunfire, no explosions, no smoke. She hears the car door behind her and the crunch of small feet on the gravel. “Palmer, get back in the damn car,” she snaps, unable to spare him the attention. Where are they?

Palmer holds up his cell, a text from Abby displayed. “Abby says the east team hasn’t moved in yet, according to the thermals. North and west have, and they’re herding them towards east. Two teams moving in, one of you.”

Kate glares at the gremlin, who meets her gaze without flinching. She can feel time slipping through her fingers. Every second is counted by the thudding of her heart. She relents because she has to. “You take west.” It’s closer. He’ll be out quicker, she reasons. Then he’ll be DiNozzo’s problem, and safe.

Palmer moves quicker than she’s ever seen him, wings unfurled and darting into the air. “I’m going north,” he shouts back, and he’s gone in a clap of wings beating.

She’d never realised Jimmy was this ballsy.

She takes off towards the west entrance, blood pumping along with the throbbing in her leg. There’s a SWAT member by the door who almost shoots her as she sprints up, until he sees her badge out. “Where’s your team?” she gasps, racing through the door as he points, eyes bulging. “Get out of here, now. Pull back, it’s a trap.”

She can’t continue the mad sprint through the warehouse, carefully checking each door before moving quickly through the space. Come on, DiNozzo—where are you? she thinks furiously, and almost runs smack into the back of McGee. He turns, mouth dropping open at the sight of her.

“Kate? What are you doing here? Does Gibbs know? Why aren’t you wearing a vest?”

“Where’s DiNozzo and the rest of your team?”

The SWAT member paired with McGee is staring at her blankly, as though he hadn’t heard the question.

McGee glances at the door and back, mouth still slack with confusion. “They took point. What…?”

She heads for the door. “Get out, get out _now_. It’s a trap.”

McGee grabs her arm, “Al, out.” He waves the SWAT member back, points him out desperately, and turns back to Kate. “I’m not leaving you! Come on.” There’s no time to argue. He follows her up the hallway two steps behind. There’s a slight comfort at having him at her back, although the knowledge if they don’t get outside in time he’ll possibly die with her is ever-present.

She doesn’t even bother to check before she bursts into the main warehouse. Tony jerks up from where he’s crouched over a body. His eyes meet hers at the same time she hears a loud click from overhead. They’re out of time.

She turns and slams the door shut in McGee’s face right as the canister explodes.

 

* * *

 

Everything around her is white.

She’s on the ground. A warm, heavy weight pins her down. There’s an arm wrapped around her head. The rest of the SWAT team is gagging and choking.

Tony rolls off of her, coughing as the air around them thickens. It catches in their throats. She coughs to clear her airway, sitting up and trying to blink her eyes clean. Tears run down her cheeks from the irritation. Tony’s dark hair is powder white. His face and clothes are coated in whatever the canister had held, and he’s coughing just as hard as she is. The air around her is impenetrable with the settling substance.

Shit, she thinks dully, feeling it coating her throat and lungs. Gibbs is going to be _pissed._


	19. Kate and the Plague

“It’s not funny, Kate.” Tony looks mournful under the blue lights. Kate wriggles on the bare hospital bed, thin cotton pyjamas doing nothing to keep out the chill.

“I’m not laughing.” Not even a little—there’s very little that’s funny here.

But he doesn’t stop: “This is _serious.”_

“I know, Tony. I’m sorry.”

“This very instant somebody is incinerating my Ermenegildo Zegna suit, my Armani tie, my Dolce Gabbana shirt, and my Gucci shoes!” Tony looks like he’s about to cry as he lists the things Kate doesn’t give a shit about when his life is on the line, paying no attention to her incredulous look.

“Does he ever shut up?” grumbles one of the SWAT guys, a man whose name Kate hadn’t quite caught. Joe? Jon?

“Not often.” Kate tries a smile, feeling it sit awkwardly on her face. The other two SWAT members exchange glances, looking strange in hospital issued pyjamas instead of their gear.

“Look on the bright side,” one of them states calmly, tapping on one side of the glass walls surrounding them. “If it wasn’t for Agent Todd here, there’d be a dozen of us infected with anthrax instead of just five. I appreciate the legroom, agent.”

“It might not be anthrax,” Kate points out.

Tony perks up. “I like the sound of that, Kate. Maybe it was just a scare tactic, some flour, honey dust…”

“Smallpox, bubonic plague, cholera…” Joe lists dryly, ticking his fingers off as he goes. “Take your pick. Somehow I don’t think they went to all that trouble to douse us with honey… dust.”

“Foot powder, face powder, talcum powder,” Tony continues, covering his ears.

“We might not even be infected.” Kate tries to smile reassuringly at the youngest looking SWAT guy, who’s pacing by his bed with a frightened expression. “We’re only in isolation for a night, we’ll be out by morning.”

The man coughs.

 

* * *

 

“I recognise you!” Tony exclaims as the doctor walks in, lightly furred face covered in a heavy mask. “I need to apologize for trying to pat you, I get a little strange on painkillers.” Kate looks up and smirks, seeing the ears and recognising him too.

The doctor’s eyes crinkle above the mask. “No need to apologise, Agent DiNozzo. Happens more often than you’d think.” He pauses, gold eyes flitting from person to person in the small room. “We have the results back on the substance. It’s not anthrax.”

He doesn’t say that like it’s a good thing.

“What is it?” Joe snaps, fists bunching the sheets.

“It looks like a genetically altered strand of _Yersinia pestis_ … pneumonic plague. It appears as though it’s been altered to target non-humans. Which means we’ll be moving Officers Marks, Anderson, and Agent Todd to a separate isolation room. You’ll be free to go as soon as the twenty-four hours are over.”

Kate can’t remember how to breathe. It takes her three tries to speak, bolstered by the fact that apparently everyone else in the room is as speechless as she is. “T…Tony? What about Agent DiNozzo?”

She hears a soft noise behind her and turns her head to see Joe facing the scared looking guy who had been pacing. He’s sunk onto the bed, skin ashen. Kate watches Joe reach out as though to pat the man on the back, to reassure him, before she looks away. She isn’t a part of this moment.

Tony is rigid. His eyes are locked on the doctor. He looks like a man waiting to hear the worst.

“I’m afraid we won’t know for certain until the blood cultures come back,” the doctor says softly, glancing at Tony.

“We have the plague?” the frightened man murmurs, dropping his face into his hands. “Oh my god.”

But the doctor continues relentlessly: “I’m going to need the three people I named to gather their things. We’ll be moving you next door.”

There’s no damn way that she’s leaving Tony here alone. No way in hell.

“I have an open wound,” she announces, pulling her pyjama leg up and showing the fresh bandage they’d covered the bite with. “That increases the chance of infection, right? Direct contact with my bloodstream? And my mother’s a hedge-witch, I could have dormant magic. I should stay.”

Her mother doesn’t have a magical bone in her body, but he doesn’t know that.

The doctor eyes her warily, one ear twitching very slightly. “Agent Todd, I can’t recommend—”

Kate interrupts him. “You can’t recommend that I leave and possibly spread the plague? I understand. I’m happy to stay here.” She tries not to look desperate when the doctor studies her, and fails miserably.

“Okay,” he says finally. “Very well.”

 

* * *

 

“Your culture came back clear,” the doctor tells her, eyes gentle. She doesn’t feel any relief. “You’re not infected.”

“Just mine?”

Don’t say sorry, don’t say sorry, don’t—

“I’m sorry.”

It’s a punch to the gut and she responds with begging, the last weapon she has in her arsenal: “Don’t make me leave him. I can’t leave him.” She doesn’t try to hide how desperate she is this time.

“Kate…”

But she gets her way.

She usually does.

 

* * *

 

He’d looked better when he’d gotten shot. She hovers as close as she can while his lips crack and split. He’s turning blue from lack of oxygen. His breathing becomes ragged and forced.

“I’m sorry I teased you with all those movies, Kate.”

Somehow, his apologising doesn’t reassure her.

“Teased? You’ve tortured me.” She leans forward and his eyes meet hers, uncharacteristically unfocused. Something cold settles on her spine. She pushes it away roughly. “For two years all I’ve heard is John Wayne and Clint Eastwood. Not to mention James Bond.”

She hears a rattling cough from the other bed and shudders. The doctor vanishes from Tony’s side to help the nurse with the other patient. Sean. His name is Sean. Twenty-eight, single with two sisters. Owns a black and white cat named Boots. Allergic to pineapples and paces when he’s nervous.

“James Bond… is a character… played by Sean Connery, George Lazenby, Roger Moore, and Pierce Brosnan. Why are you wearing a mask?” Tony’s voice is broken, almost silenced.

“Tony…”

“Why aren’t you sick?”

“Because I’m stronger than you.” She refuses to be nice to him. That’s almost too much like giving up. She leans close. “Don’t you dare give up, DiNozzo. If you give up, I’ll never tell you what Ducky is.”

“You… you don’t know.” He wheezes, and she can hear something wet in his breathing. “Do you?”

The cold feeling is back and it’s overwhelming, ignoring her attempts to push it aside. “Survive and you’ll find out,” she bribes him, but her heart isn’t in it and he can tell, rolling his eyes at her.

They keep rolling until the whites are all she can see and he gags. Blood gleams black under the blue lights. It splatters onto his sheets and chin. She reaches for him but the doctor drags her back, pushing her towards the door. “Kate, you need to leave, now,” he says firmly, and she’s too shaken to fight him off, letting herself be propelled out of the doorway and into Ducky’s waiting arms.

The cold feeling is all she is now, frozen with a fear she can’t fight off. She gasps and closes her eyes against the reality of Tony’s broken body. Ducky holds her, supports her where her legs can’t anymore. When she opens her eyes, Gibbs is by her side and he’s staring at her with something almost approaching concern.

“You were brave to stay with him, Caitlin,” Ducky murmurs into her hair, rocking her slightly. She tries to talk and feels the coldness take her words, turning them into wracking sobs.

She remembers Echo’s barking.

_She might have been barking at me._

“He’s dying, Duck,” she says, something shattering in her chest and she feels the truth of it shudder through the ME’s body. For a moment Gibbs stares at her like she’s a ghost, and the fear on his face is enough to stop her heart. She’s never seen Gibbs scared before, not even for a moment, and for a single instant she is absolutely sure that Tony is dead, that he’s died while she had her back turned.

“Ah, the hell he is!” Gibbs snarls and pushes past them into the room where Tony is fighting for his life.

Kate turns to watch him, still shaking uncontrollably. The doctor straightens and stares at their determined boss. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Who the hell are you?”

Gibbs doesn’t even give him a second glance, walking straight to Tony’s side. “His boss. The bug has a suicide gene. It’s dead. It’s been dead for over an hour. He’s no longer infectious.” He leans down, close to Tony’s face and lowering his voice so Kate can no longer hear what he’s saying. Tony’s head moves weakly, tilting up towards his boss and there’s something like the barest hint of hope in his expression, the utmost trust that Gibbs will pull him through.

Kate watches as Gibbs smacks Tony lightly on the back of the head, almost a caress, before looking away. When she looks up again, Gibbs is in front of her, and he puts a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Tony?” she asks through the tears still clouding her vision.

“He’ll make it,” Gibbs tells her softly, squeezing her shoulder. “The cell is dead. They executed them minutes before we got there.”

“Except Ari,” Ducky says calmly. Gibbs nods.

“Except Ari.”

 

* * *

 

Ducky brings her bag to her, and she finds it tucked in the side pocket. The doctor is standing by the door of the blue room where Tony lies peacefully sleeping, watching him with a grim face.

Kate tries not to look at the empty bed. Sean with his two sisters and his cat. Another victim to add Ari’s debt. She hopes that she’s there when it’s time to collect.

The doctor turns and looks at her, smiling slightly. “He’s asleep. The worst is over.” She sees the way he also avoids looking at the empty bed.

“Can I sleep here?” she asks quietly. He nods.

She puts the wooden wolf on the table beside his bed, running a single finger down the carved back. A pale hand touches hers, takes the wolf out from under her palm. Tony smiles weakly, turning the wolf over and examining the swirl of the grain. “You know, this reminds me of the end of _Alien_ ,” he says faintly.

She falls asleep that night counting the breaths he takes and being thankful for each and every one of them.


	20. Kate and the Last Twilight

It’s not hard to picture him sprawled in his chair, arms thrown back behind his head and grinning lecherously at every woman who has the misfortune of wandering past. She swipes the pencil down the page, carefully outlining the curve of his arm.

“Is that Tony?” McGee is peering over her partition down at her sketchpad.

Kate scowls at him. Pranking the probie is a lot less fun without Tony to help her, and McGee has seemingly let his guard down during their co-worker’s absence. “No.”

“Are you sure? It really looks like him?”

“Is there a reason you’ve been haunting my desk all week?”

McGee’s ears turn red, stuttering awkwardly, “Uh no, I just, err…”

“Maybe you just decided to take over DiNozzo’s job of annoying me while he’s on sick leave?” she asks, raising her eyebrows.

She can hear the sound of McGee shuffling his feet nervously. “I just wanted to check that everything was okay, you know, since you and Tony are close and… you know.”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” Her voice is low and dangerous and, if McGee was Tony, he’d have bolted by now. Unfortunately, McGee’s never been very good at sensing her bad moods.

“He almost died,” he says softly, gaze dropping to his feet and back up again, swallowing hard.

“We’re NCIS agents, McGee,” she says, losing the edge to her voice. McGee’s still fresh, still innocent. He’s never lost a partner before. She thinks of Joe’s hand on Sean’s back and closes her eyes. “There is a chance one of us might die every time we walk out that door.”

 

* * *

 

Tony’s not even been back twenty-four hours and he’s already been in a goddamned explosion. She might as well kill him herself and save God the trouble. She bets Tony doesn’t even notice how incredibly furious she is with him right now and swears, if he says he’s fine she’s going to Gibbs-slap him into next week—

“I’m telling you, I’m fine,” Tony moans as Ducky frowns at the blood-pressure cuff. A strangled noise escapes from Kate’s lips, earning her a startled glance from Palmer.

“One-thirty-six over eighty-four is not fine for you, Tony. Your blood pressure is high.” The movement of Ducky’s head as he shakes it in displeasure is accompanied by the faint jingle of bells. Even they sound disapproving.

“Almost getting blown up tends to do that to me.” Tony’s eyes flick to Kate and he smirks. “Not to mention hanging around Kate when she’s in one of her moods.”

She’s going to kill him. Abby will help her hide the body. She wonders if Gibbs will let her borrow a hacksaw.

“Muscle soreness?” Ducky asks loudly, cutting off their brewing argument.

Tony coughs, hand twitching as though he was about to brace it against his chest. “Only when I move or breathe.”

Ducky tuts, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Yes, clearly you haven’t quite recovered from your bout with _Y. pestis._ You need a rest.”

Tony bolts upright, grin vanishing. “No. I _need_ to work. I’m fine.” And, with that said, he storms out, refusing to look at any of them in the eye. Ducky sighs and rubs his eyes tiredly.

“How is he really, Duck?” Kate asks worriedly, remembering how he looked in the bed.

“Stubborn, pig-headed, and entirely unaware of his own limitations.”

Kate snorts loudly. “So, back to normal then?” Ducky laughs and the sound is fraught. A thought strikes her through the worry: “Hey, Duck?”

“Hmm?” He pauses from where he’s peering down at Tony’s notes, lips thin.

“The bells,” she begins tentatively, not sure how to ask what she wants to ask. She’s read a lot since discovering his true form, the fae horse, but found nothing about them. “Uh, they’re… unique to you, aren’t they?”

But Ducky laughs, for real this time. “That, my dear,” he says tiredly, “is a story for another day, I think.”

She takes the hint and leaves him. A Ducky too tired and worried to tell a story is not a Ducky she wants to bother.

But she makes a mental note to return and ask again another day.

 

* * *

 

“Where’s Tony?” McGee asks, slipping into his chair.

“Sleeping in Abby’s lab,” Kate replies, scrolling through a report and checking for errors. “Gibbs went all mother hen on him, made him lie down.” McGee looks up and opens his mouth to say something. Nothing comes out, but he sits there with his mouth open gaping at something behind her.

“Where is the mother hen now?” someone asks behind her in a grating voice.

She turns and can’t stop the grin that spreads across her face. “Agent Fornell! You look like crap!”

He glares at her, looking uncannily like Gibbs. “Smile a little harder, Agent Todd. You almost look happy to see me.”

“Why are you here?” Kate asks him.

Fornell scrubs at his face and huffs a frustrated breath. “We found Ari Haswari. Gibbs was right about this all along—it’s been personal this whole time. He’s after Gibbs.”

“In the States? I thought he would have bolted after the warehouse trick.” McGee is looking down at his computer, already running as many checks and searches as it can handle.

“Why?” Kate asks, feeling numb. “He hasn’t got what he wants yet. We’re not dead.”

 

* * *

 

She doesn’t remember the dream when she wakes up, just laughing green eyes and the vaguest sensation of having lost something. Or gotten lost herself… walking a foggy path.

“Kate? Are you okay?” Abby is peering at her, face furrowed with worry. “You totally went spacey there.”

Kate jerks, shaking herself awake. Pay attention, Kate, she thinks furiously, realising she’s at work and they desperately need her focused right now. “I’m sorry, Abby, I was a million miles away. What were you saying?”

Abby pulls a weird face at her and exchanges a glance with McGee that bodes ill. “Oh it’s nothing really, nothing important at all, just the disappearance of a million dollar missile that’s probably aimed right at us, going by our past track record. No biggie.”

“It’s not aimed at us,” Gibbs says briskly. “Ari’s not going to shoot a missile at us. If we die, he wants to watch that happen.”

“What’s it aimed at then?” Kate asks.

Gibbs turns on his heel and strides out. “People.”

Abby swallows and looks at her shoes in the fraught aftermath of Gibbs’ exit. “Kate…” she begins, looking bizarrely nervous and biting at her lip. “I had a weird dream about Tony last night.”

“Ewww,” Kate says from reflex, “not the one where the two of you were at the zoo and he—”

“Oh, no, no, no. He’s fully clothed in this one.” Abby looks terrified, something Kate has rarely seen, and the joking mood dissipates fast. “But he had blood all over his face. I woke up crying, Kate. I never cry. Never, ever, ever. What if… what if Echo was right?”

Kate thinks of the vague sense of impending doom her own dream had left her with. “Don’t worry, Abby, I’m sure it’s fine,” she lies. “We’ll be fine. Gibbs will make sure of it.”

 

* * *

 

“What’s the date today, Kate?” Gibbs asks, loosely holding the phone he’d used to call Ari with.

“May twenty fourth,” she answers promptly, watching his expression and waiting for a clue as to what comes next.

Tony hisses air through his teeth. “Paula Cassidy’s ship gets back from the Gulf today.”

“Five ships all headed to Norfolk,” Gibbs murmurs. “The piers will be packed with naval families.”

“Welcoming them home.” Tony meets her gaze and Kate shivers.

If they’re wondering where the missile is aimed, they’ve just got their answer.

All that’s left is stopping it.

 

* * *

 

They hear the sound of the missile taking off before they see it, sprinting towards the warehouses.

“Jam it, McGee!” Gibbs shouts back at him, slamming open a door and disappearing inside.

Kate glances back at their probie crouched over his transmitter looking terrified. “You can do this, McGee,” she says, before following her boss, Tony at her side.

Into the fray they go.

McGee’s voice is loud through the earwigs they wear as they slip out onto the roof, looking about for the missile controls. “Okay, one freq down, two to go!”

Good work, McGee, Kate thinks. She’d known he could do it.

The sound of a bullet echoes through the earwig, making them all flinch. McGee makes a furious noise. “Boss, one of them shot my trans—”

His strangled yelp turns her guts to water, a sharp crack echoing into their ear.

“McGee! Are you okay?” Gibbs snaps, eyes darting about as they move out into the open. Tony nudges her, pointing towards the controls sitting near the edge of the roof. They’re all tense, waiting for his answer. Needing his answer, because if he doesn’t answer than—

McGee’s voice is shaken, but it’s still the best thing she’s heard all day. “There’s one terrorist inside! I don’t know if I got him, but he stopped shooting.”

“You hit?”

A low chuckle. “Just a scratch, boss.” Oh god, Kate thinks at hearing that, he’s turning into DiNozzo.

“You know how to fly this thing?” Tony asks, staring at the controls. Gibbs snorts, steps forward, and shoots it.

Kate blinks. “Well, that worked.” She looks up at Gibbs, grinning shakily at the thought of how bad that could have been. She’s just in time to see the flicker of movement behind Gibbs as a man steps out, gun aimed squarely at his heart. “Shooter!” she shouts, her dream suddenly flickering into her brain with perfect clarity.

Gibbs with a bullet in his head and Ari standing over him laughing.

She sprints forward.

The gun fires and her vision whites out.

 

* * *

 

“Kate!” Tony is leaning over her. Her chest is on fire. Finally, he looks scared—something he hasn’t been all week, even though he _should_ have been. It’s been a bad week for the stoic members of Team Gibbs. “You okay?” He helps her up when he sees she’s aware of her surroundings again, back from the daze of pain the impact had left her in.

“I just got shot at point blank range, DiNozzo,” she groans, opening her shirt and looking down at the two bullets embedded in the Kevlar. It’s going to leave a bitch of a bruise underneath. “What do you think?”

He laughs, mask firmly back in place and no sign of the fear he’d let slip through. “That you’re not going to Pilates class tomorrow?”

Gibbs touches the crushed bullets and his eyebrows twitch slightly. She can’t tell if he’s furious, or thankful. Maybe both. “Protection detail is over, Kate,” his mouth says, as his eyes darken with a clear message of ‘Don’t you dare do that again.’

“You did good,” Tony says softly behind her. A compliment from DiNozzo, she’d never thought the day would come.

“For once, DiNozzo is right,” Gibbs says with a rare smile. A compliment from Gibbs as well. She doesn’t know what to say. She laughs, the thudding of her heart finally dying down to a responsible level, enjoying the moment. This is truly a day to treasure.

“Wow,” she says, returning that smile. “I thought I’d die before I eve—”

The words are stolen from her as something impacts against her skull and sends her reeling.

 

* * *

 

The last thing Caitlin Todd knows of this world is shocked blue eyes watching her fall and the sound of something howling.

When she wakes, she’s on the broken, foggy path.

She’s alone.


	21. Us and Our Goodbye

Abby is having a good day. Stressful, yes, but every time she feels the creeping grip of worry up her spine, she takes a moment to breathe and run her hand over the carefully drawn protection spells she’d created to guard her team. They’re more for her benefit than theirs, but it makes her feel better. No matter what Tony has to say on the matter.

Her phone rings and she answers it with a twirl and her usual exuberance, chasing away the thread of concern again with the force of her personality. “Tony! Did you stop the missile? What am I saying, of course you did! When will you be home? Is everyone okay?”

The line is silent except for the sound of broken breathing on the other end. His voice when it comes is a pale imitation of the Tony she knows.

“Kate’s dead.”

When she remembers how to speak again, Bert is bumping his head against her shoulder and she hadn’t even noticed that she’d sat down.

 

* * *

 

Ducky stands over the body bag with his heart in his throat and his hand on the zip.

It’s always harder when it’s someone you know. And Caitlin… she’s young, vivacious. Everything in front of her, except, apparently, the rest of her life.

If he’s already crying, he’s not worried at all. He’ll never apologise to cry for a life so treasured, and so lost. He knows that he’s stalling, trying to delay the moment when the bag opens and reveals her pretty features forever stilled by death’s hand. He’s just delaying the moment when he has to accept that she’s gone and they’re never going to exchange stories over a cup of tea again, or share a wry smile over Tony’s latest antics.

It’s a grim feeling to realise that the one story she’d asked him to tell, of why he’s followed by the sounds of bells, is the one he’ll never now be able to tell.

“Doctor Mallard?” says a hesitant voice behind him, a young voice just newly touched by grief. He can’t look at young Mr. Palmer without seeing himself the first time he’d lost a friend of the same age. It is an eye-opening experience for any youth, the inconceivable moment when they are suddenly faced with the death of the young and the prospect of their own mortality.

He would have given anything to have spared James that experience.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” James asks, stepping up to his side and reaching towards the bag. He barely allows his fingers to brush against the stiff plastic before he pulls them back as though burned, an uneasy expression settling on his features.

“Go home, Mr. Palmer,” Ducky says softly. “You don’t need to be a part of this. Let your memories remain those of how she was in life, not in death.”

James eyes him for a moment, clearly torn between concern for his well-being and the desire to avoid seeing his friend’s body. Finally, after a moment that seems to stretch on for eternity, he nods and turns to silently leave. Ducky waits until he’s sure that the elevator has carried his assistant away before he finally opens the bag, the sight of Caitlin’s ashen skin and the round, bloodless hole neatly placed onto her forehead an expected shock. Nothing can really prepare you for a sight such as that.

“Oh Caitlin,” he murmurs, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear neatly. She was always so well-presented in life, he cannot allow that to lapse now. “I have you now, my dear. Everything will be alright. Now, I was telling you about the bells… listen carefully. I’ve never told anyone this story before.”

 

* * *

 

He leans his back against the cool steel and curls into himself, knees tucked against his chest, the universal posture for ‘I’m not okay.’

He’s not okay. He’s never been less okay in his life. He runs a hand over his face as though to scrub away the traces of blood he can still feel burning on his skin, and his palm comes away damp. DiNozzo men don’t cry. Not even when they can taste their partner’s blood on their lips and see their empty eyes gazing accusingly up at them. He hears footsteps in front of him and can’t gather the energy to raise his head, instead tucking his nose against his knee and inhaling the salty scent of his pant fabric.

“What are you doing, Tony?” says a voice that’s harsh in its gentleness. He doesn’t need gentle. Doesn’t need kind. He needs tough, unflappable Gibbs to smack him over the back of the head and stop the world from going off-kilter.

What is he doing?

He’s sitting in a morgue with his back against the door which separates him from the refrigerated corpse of a woman he’d sworn to protect. Why is he there? He’s not entirely sure.

He remembers Kate lying to the doctor, demanding to stay by his side, a familiar voice through a feverish haze. “I didn’t want her to be alone,” he finally admits, and his hand clenches tightly around the wooden wolf in his palm.

He isn’t ready to run out of time.

 

* * *

 

Jimmy goes home and gets drunk. Not the kind of drunk that you later laugh about and tell stories about, not the kind of drunk where you go to bed feeling relaxed and sleepy and wake up without a hangover. It’s the kind of drunk where the numbness only serves to make the pain worse, and he knows that he’s going to end the night either crying or vomiting or both.

It’s the kind of drunk you get when you desperately need to forget.

Forget Abby’s glazed expression as she walks around the lab like she’s lost. Forget the way Tony is being overbearing with his jokes, a fake smile plastered to his face like a cheap carnival mask, alienating everyone as he desperately tries to be okay. Forget the way Gibbs is being unbearably nice to everyone around him, as though a gruff word will send them hurtling away from him right when he needs them most.

Forget Ducky standing over that body bag, and Echo who had howled so mournfully that the neighbours had called animal control. Tim, who’s the only one who seems to be allowing himself the chance to grieve, exchanging memories and stories of their fallen friend with every NCIS personnel who wanders their way into the bullpen to pass their regrets. Tim, who before he leaves every night, reverently runs his hand over Kate’s desk as though saying a silent goodnight.

Most of all, Jimmy wants to forget Kate.

There’s a knock on his door and he answers it with a shaking hand, swaying against the doorframe. Abby and Tim are there holding beer and neither look surprised at his condition. “What are you doing here?” he asks, in no state to be polite.

Abby looks him up and down, and the glazed expression is replaced with a kind of fierce determination. “We’re remembering Kate.”

She shoulders past him into the apartment and Echo slinks out of his bedroom with her tail down and eyes woeful. Abby pauses, crouches in front of the dog. “Will you join us?” she asks the dog gently, holding out her hand.

Echo taps her nose against Abby’s palm and her tail wags slightly.

 

* * *

 

Gibbs stands woodenly by Tony’s side and stares straight ahead into the distance, ignoring the melancholy strains of the music Kate’s family have chosen to lay her to rest to. He’s ignoring the angry rustle of NCIS personnel who had known and loved Kate, only to fly out to her funeral and find that they’re unwelcome. He’s ignoring the silent shell of his senior agent next to him, barely holding himself together. He’s ignoring how much the act of burying Kate goddamn hurts.

He’s ignoring how much this fucking hurts.

The humans clustered around the flag-draped coffin occasionally glance back at the division between the mourners, the line of empty space between those with magic and those without. The unspoken rule that ‘You’re not welcome here, you’ve never been welcome here.’ Gibbs can turn the hurt into rage, he’s done that before. And there’s plenty to feel rage about, as the people who should have known Kate the best do the one thing that would have been guaranteed to send her into a fury.

Kate had never seen the line between magic users and humans, never. He’ll be damned if he’ll let them forget that fact. He drops into his wolf form, feeling a ripple of shock spread outward from him. Shaking out his fur with a huff, he makes unblinking eye contact with Kate’s stunned father, who alternates between consoling his grief-stricken wife and glaring at Gibbs.

There’s a soft whisper around him and suddenly others are joining him, shifters taking animal form and mages calling upon their powers to glitter around them. Tony stirs, face suddenly more animated than it has been in a week, smiling sharply with pointed fangs visible.

McGee only hesitates a moment before he sheds the glamour that he’s worn as a second skin since he was created. Gibbs turns his head and catches his eye, before nodding approvingly. _Atta boy, Tim._ There’s nothing human about the smooth polished skin of his newest agent, and nothing mundane about the dark glow of magic deep in his eyes but, in reality, nothing has really changed. He’s still Tim. Kate would have seen that.

But, for all their outward show of solidarity, none of them breach that invisible line.

_“You have a right to say goodbye, same as them,”_ says a voice that’s as familiar to him as the smell of wood shavings. _“They can’t stop you.”_

He doesn’t need to turn his head to know that Fornell has padded up softly to stand beside him, shoulder healed but still marred with the vicious silver scar that signals a magical injury. _“I won’t interrupt their grief to prove a point,”_ he sends back bluntly. _“They’re burying their daughter.”_

Fornell eyes him and dips his muzzle. _“So are you.”_

 

* * *

 

McGee is as terrified as though he’d walked out naked in front of everyone there. He’s never dropped his glamour, not unless he injured and needing repair. As, one by one, his co-workers show their support for his boss, he swallows hard and lets it happen without thinking.

Gibbs meets his eyes and nods once. Tim holds his chin just that little bit higher.

When one of Kate’s brothers peels away from the group, he stiffens and waits for the oncoming confrontation. Gibbs’ hackles raise slightly on his back and Tony relaxes, standing loose-limbed as though he isn’t readying himself to strike. The man stops in front of them and nods his head in a show of respect that silences them all. “Kate wouldn’t have wanted this,” he says loudly, voice carrying behind him back to the group by the coffin. “You were her family too.”

There’s a moment of stillness where possibilities race through Tim’s mind, endless ways that this could culminate, and then Abby steps forward and extends her hand. “I’m Abby,” she says with a shaky smile, and Kate’s brother takes her hand and laughs sadly.

“I know, Kate told me all about you,” he says. “I’m Roy.” The two step away and walk towards the coffin, hands held tightly and faces confident. The trickle that eventually breaks the dam. The humans hesitate for just a moment before allowing them to step through and suddenly the two groups are together, the divide between them erased in a moment.

McGee watches as Kate’s mother hands a sniffling Palmer a tissue and thinks that Kate would have very much liked to have seen this moment.

He misses her now more than ever.

 

* * *

 

He’s standing exactly where Fornell had expected to find him, alone. There’s something about the way Gibbs stands that reminds Fornell of their past, as though by being alone he’s protecting himself from harm. He walks up next to his friend and looks about with a calm eye.

“Nice view up here,” he says in an offhand manner, before biting his tongue and cussing silently.

Gibbs looks down at a dark patch on the concrete roof and his face flickers for a moment with something unnameable. “I’ve seen worse,” he admits, and Tobias isn’t sure they’re talking about the same thing anymore. “You going to ask why I’m here?”

Fornell shrugs. “I don’t have to. You’re doing the same as you always do when you lose a pack member: run away to avoid getting hurt again.”

Gibbs turns shocked eyes on him, and Tobias knows in that instant that his friend is wounded. It’s rare the man ever lets emotions show so openly. Gibbs’ words are curt. “I don’t have a pack. I run alone.”

This time, Fornell doesn’t try to hold back a laugh, ignoring the angry glare he receives in return. “You never did get it, did you?”

Silence meets that question. No surprise there.

“Four legs and a tail doesn’t make a pack, Jethro,” he says. “Kate understood that, even if you don’t. You may not have picked them, but they’ve picked you, and they’re not going to let you walk away because you’re too damn stubborn to admit you couldn’t have prevented Agent Todd’s death.”

“You come here to drag me home?”

“No.” Yes. Although not in so many words. “I’ve come here to remind you of what you haven’t lost.”

“Which is?” Gibbs curls into himself, as though sheltering himself from the wind.

“Sitting in your basement, hurting, and drinking all your beer probably.” Fornell sees the suppressed snort that Gibbs barely manages to hold back, and suddenly the conversation is no longer a minefield of past memories. “If you think I was going to wait at your house and play counsellor to DiNutso in a depressed funk, you really are cracked. He’s even more annoying when he’s sad.”

Gibbs turns to look at him, mouth tilted up slightly, and Fornell knows that the danger has passed. “He grows on you, eventually.”

“So does cancer.” Fornell turns and walks to the door to the roof. “If you want a ride home, I’ll be waiting in the car.”

Gibbs nods and goes to follow, casting one last long look over the horizon surrounding them, hazy with the oncoming dusk. Fornell doesn’t need to be in his wolf form to see the silent farewell that Gibbs is wordlessly shouting. He pauses a moment and says it too.

Goodbye, Kate.


	22. Future

It’s some uncertain time after the end. Kate has been waiting an unfathomably long time for something, she’s not really sure what, but she knows it’s coming soon. This place she’s in has long ceased to frighten her. It’s foggy and grim and broken, sure, but it’s not unwelcoming.

And she’s not alone anymore.

Faces she knows have been and gone, some stopping to speak to her, some passing unnoticed. Some double back and speak to her before their deaths. She has a long conversation with her mom before she was her mom, one that leaves them both feeling tired.

She wishes she was less for a long time after that.

Some faces surprise her. This is one of them.

Kate has spent what feels like an eternity on the paths of the dead when she looks up to find Tony walking towards her.

“Damnit, DiNozzo,” she says. “Who gave you permission to die?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The feeling is less like an ending than just another starting point._
> 
> **Chuck Palahniuk, _‘Choke’_**

**Author's Note:**

> Hello to any new readers getting here, and welcome back to any old ones who have been summoned by the sudden notification from beyond the grave! THIS SERIES IS GETTING UPDATED! I'm doing vast rewrites of both this and the sequel in preparation to begin posting the third and final instalment within a few weeks--only three years late! 
> 
> There has been a considerable amount of editing done in both this, and the following one which hasn't been updated yet (it will have a chapter added onto the end as well when it's done, both to let people know it's rewritten as well as adding something that hints to the third instalment as well, much like this final chapter does), so don't be afraid to reread. And, if you don't want to reread but do want to read further, the changes are mostly cosmetic, just improving my writing and adding details--you won't be dreadfully confusing continuing on without it.
> 
> Anyway, I don't like long author's notes, which this has turned into, so basically, hi and yes--there is a reason that I've suddenly updated this, I promise! Big things coming.


End file.
